Your Perfect Disaster
by KjAnDcooL
Summary: The Andersons were the family everyone wanted to be, up until they were ripped apart violently and publicly. what drove Jade Anderson to kill herself? why did Everett Anderson beat his own son to near death? what happened to Blaine when he all but disappeared from the public radar? One thing is for sure. No one expected him to resurface in Lima, Ohio, of all places.
1. Prologue

******so, i'd like to start off this new fic by thanking everyone who read, reviewed, favourited, alerted etc any of my other stories :) it means the world to me, and gave me the balls to write the story that's been on my mind for _weeks_.  
>i know these author note things are tedious, but please bare with me :P THIS IS IMPORTANT!<br>this will be a multi chapter fic, and will be updated weekly. it is almost completely AU. all of the characters from the show are pretty much the same (are the same age etc), save for a few differences:  
>1. Will and Emma are already married.<br>2. Blaine Anderson and his family/past are completely AU.  
>3. Santana is not out of the closet yet.<br>and with that finally out of the way, ENJOY! XD  
><strong>

**oh, and I OWN NOTHING! you are sadly misguided if you think i do :P **

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><p><strong>Your Perfect Disaster<strong>

_Prologue_

Anderson and Company were the biggest, best, and most feared of all law firms throughout Ohio.

Headed and founded by the formidable figure of Mr Everett Anderson, it was a force to be reckoned with when it came to the law. Anderson was a tall, towering man, large in stature and presence. He instilled fear into the hearts of whoever he prosecuted; filling those he defended with an unmatched confidence.

He never lost a case, no matter what the crime.

He had sent rapists and murderers to prison as often as he set them free, battled cases of domestic abuse and violence with cool detachment and a hard exterior. He didn't blink an icy blue eye at gruesome cruelty cases, and his curly brown, but greying, hair was always gelled into smart submission.

He was unbeatable.

Being the treasure of lawyers, Anderson fascinated the media. And so, by association, did his family.

Mrs Jade Anderson was the beautiful, exotic Filipino wife; a talent in the kitchen and a master of the arts. Her head of sleek, black hair was envied by women across the world, her flawless features what most could only dream of possessing. She was fashionable, elegant, and had a warm personality that drew others to her. Quick to laugh and easy to smile, she was adored by the public and her son, Blaine. No one knew how she had come to marry a man like Anderson – their personalities seemingly complete opposites. Where he was arrogant and smug, she was polite and humble. Where her large, almond shaped hazel green eyes sparkled with laughter, his own predatory blue were flat and cold.

Polar opposites, yet they possessed an idolized marriage.

And a national-sweetheart of a son.

Blaine Everett Anderson was everything his father was not, and everything his mother was multiplied tenfold. By the age of 17 he had mastered the Violin, Piano, Drums, Guitar and a great number of other instruments. He was fluent in Filipino, Italian, and French. He had a passion for all things Broadway and musical theatre, and was fond of sport like football and soccer. He was an over achiever in the arts - and was academically too. Top of every class he took at Dalton Academy, lead singer of the school a capella group the Warblers, and a teenager that excelled in sport; he was the perfect son.

However, Blaine was as modest and humble as his mother – just as easy going and kind, as well as just as beautiful. He had her gorgeous eyes, small build, tan skin, and devastating good looks. His black hair was curly like his fathers, yet he allowed his to bounce free in a neat, short haircut. He was compact from playing sport, and so also had what was seen as a perfect figure – muscled, but not too muscled, broad shoulders, but not too broad.

Boys envied him, and girls dreamed of him.

The Anderson family were the top of the social class, and the people everyone wanted to be.

But when Blaine Anderson was due to start his Junior year, everything changed.

Everett Anderson was exposed doing dirty dealings with the wrong kind of people, and scandal enveloped Ohio. Andersons temper got more and more dangerous, his wife more and more withdrawn and depressed as their perfect lives fell apart around them. Both neglected their son – his father not caring, his mother seemingly not there at all; more mentally than physically.

Everett Anderson fought for his place in society, desperately trying to get himself back on his podium. But with no success. The Andersons world continued to disintegrate, until it finally shattered with the death of Jade.

She had killed herself, her tender heart not being able to cope with her depression and the worlds judging scrutiny.

Everett lost his wife; Blaine his mother and best friend.

The media had even more fuel for their fire.

Blaine began to miss school due to home life turmoil, his grades slipped, and when he did turn up to school it was with poorly concealed black eyes and bruises. No one knew where they came from, but everyone suspected.

Finally, just five months after Jades suicide, Blaine Anderson was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance, beaten to within an inch of his life. He remained in a coma for three weeks, and upon his awakening Everett Anderson was found guilty of child abuse and attempted murder.

Suspicions were confirmed, and Anderson was sentenced to fourteen years in prison.

Blaine was discharged from hospital with a scarred face and shattered heart, and fell off the public the radar once and for all.

No one knew what happened to him, what pushed his father to nearly kill him, and to the present day his where-abouts were a mystery. If he was in care or with family, no one knew.

What they did know, however, was that the teenagers world had been torn apart publicly and painfully, and that his compassionate, tender heart, so like his mothers, was undoubtedly damaged beyond repair.

Six months passed, and the people of Lima, Ohio finally began to forget about the Andersons like the rest of the world.

That was, until, Blaine came back into their lives unexpectedly in a tornado of mystery, lies, heartbreak, and pain.

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><p><strong>what do we think? i already have chapter one written, but i wont post it until next week, when chapter two is done. this isn't me trying to annoy you, it's me trying to avoid awkward update and delay situations :P<br>****please, REVIEW! i love knowing what you think xx  
><strong>**Kj 3**


	2. Chapter 1

******here's chapter one :) i'm sorry if it seems kind of dull or filler-y, but what happens in it is pretty important for the story...  
>so, i hope you like ;)<br>and if you do/don't, please, REVIEW! i really need to know what i'm doing right or wrong, or could do better with :S if you could take the time to enlighten me, that would be fab XD  
><strong>

**DISCLAIMER: i own absolutely nothing. you can blame Ryan Murphy and Fox for that :( **

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><p><strong>Chapter one<strong>

William Schuester held the door to the childrens home open for his wife, Emma.

The worn wooden door looked as dull and miserable as the rest of the building around it - surrounded by dusty red bricks and rotting window frames. The traffic thundered down the busy road behind them, and Will couldn't help but think how dangerous it was to have a childrens home with a main road for a front lawn.

Emma hopped up the steps to the entrance daintily, wrinkling her nose at the grimy door handle her husband held.

The married couple of three years had decided they wanted to adopt a child months before. Both had always wanted children, and while Will argued he could get by with his glee club, the New Directions, as substitutes, Emma had insisted. She felt guilty that she couldn't give him his own offspring; she was diagnosed with OCD and the thought of giving birth, let alone the mess that accompanied raising a baby, made her skin crawl and brought on anxiety attacks. She loved children, and was a sweet, kind, caring woman, but there was no way she could tolerate germs on that scale. It made her shudder just to think about it.

The couple made the decision that they would adopt. They would get the child they had always wanted without Emma having to go through the trauma of child birth; and would be able to skip the 'messy, earlier years'.

They entered that tumble-down building with the full intention of coming home with a little boy or girl, preferably between the age of five and eight years old.

Will let the door swing shut behind them with a loud bang that echoed around the dank, tiled entranceway. The hustle and bustle of the street outside was muffled as the sunlight was cut off from the interior of the building. It was dark in the room, the only light coming from flickering orange bulbs set high up on the walls. The faint light filtering in from outside was divided by black shadows, and upon further inspection Emma saw that the grimy, practically opaque windows were barred.

She shivered at the thought of having to grow up in a place like this.

Busy surveying the oppressive room, both Schuesters failed to notice the small, middle aged woman approach them from a desk in the corner.

'Hello! Can I help you?' The womans cheerful, much too enthusiastic voice made Will and Emma jump; after looking at her, Will noted that her apparently sunshiny disposition was completely at odds with the heavy atmosphere.

The couple glanced at each other. Emma then smiled brightly at the woman and replied, matching her enthusiasm;

'That would be wonderful! We're looking to adopt a child.'

Will smiled at Emma's obvious excitement. If he had any doubts about their decision before, all were eradicated now.

'Ah, you must be the Schuesters! Brill! If you could just please follow me, I'll show you to the little horrors.' The cheerful woman still spoke in the same tone, so Emma and Will knew she was joking about the 'little horrors' thing. Or at least, they hoped. As they followed the woman down a narrow corridor to their left, listening to her motherly, fond reminiscences of some of the children ('little Pete is such a darling!', 'oh! you must meet Annabel, she's such a sweetheart.'), it was evident that she cared a great deal for the children in her care. As they continued up a small flight of stairs (which creeked quite ominously under their weight), it was revealed that her name was Katherine Briggs, but that they were to 'call me Kathy, dears!'.

In short, Will and Emma found themselves liking the woman very much.

They liked her even more when she led them around a final corner and into an open lounge area, in which about a dozen children were playing.

Emma's heart tugged ever so slightly when the room went quiet upon their arrival; every single body looking to her with a young, hopeful face.

She knew this would happen.

She wanted them all.

But she couldn't have and love them all. Her and Will had agreed on one kid only, more out of their current financial situation then anything else. If they could afford to do it, they would. Emma glanced up at Will and knew he was thinking the same.

'Children!' Kathy clapped her hands jovially for their attention – which seemed unnecessary, considering every eye and ear was already directed to them. 'This is Mr and Mrs Schuester. They are looking for a bundle of joy to take home with them today, so please make them feel welcome.' She smiled a wide, loving smile, and turned back to the couple. 'Everyone is here. Why don't you spend some time with them all, and then we'll decide where to go from there?'

Both Will and Emma nodded happily.

They couldn't wait to find their son or daughter, who they were sure was mixed in the cosy chaos somewhere.

A small, dark haired girl with wide blue eyes made her way over to Emma.

'Excuse me, miss,' she said sweetly, tugging on Emma's skirt, 'do you like dolls?'

Emma grinned widely at Will, then the girl.

'I like dolls very much! I used to play with them when I was a little girl.' She told her, crouching down in front of her so their faces were level.

'Would you like to play with us?' the girl indicated over her shoulder to a group of similarly aged girls gathered around what looked like a dolls house. All of them were watching the exchange hopefully.

If possible, Emmas smile brightened what seemed like a thousand watts. She looked at Will over her shoulder, who nodded down to her encouragingly - then took the girls hand and allowed herself to be led over to the others. As soon as she reached them, they were all clamouring for her attention.

Will watched Emma interact with the kids. It did amazing things for her OCD. She was picking up dolls she would normally run away from without a thought, and didn't even flinch when one girl wiped her nose on her sleeve. More importantly, the radiant smile upon her face never faltered. He couldn't wait to see how she would react when they found the one.

Moving his focus from Emma, he used her distraction to properly take in the room.

It was reasonably large, and had a high, white ceiling that was ridden with cracks. The green carpet beneath his feet was grimy, but cosy, and the assorted sofas, armchairs, and beanbags scattered about the place looked comfortable. The atmosphere was light and cheerful – contrasting so greatly to the original, below in the entrance hall. The boys of the home were grouped around a T.V mounted on the wall, playing Mario cart. Will wandered over to them, and they immediately passed him a controller and began chatting excitedly.

An hour later, Emma had learnt the name of every boy and girl in the room, including the little dark haired one who turned out to be Annabel. She was indeed a sweetheart. Emma found every single child adorable, and it broke her heart to know she could choose only one.

Will, after playing with all of them as well, felt the same.

However, happy that they had met everyone, the pair stood up from amidst the dozen kids and made their way back over to Kathy.

'Well?' Kathy laughed, bouncing on the balls of her feet, 'Has anyone stood out to you?'

Emma's expression morphed into one of pain and slight regret.

'They're all such wonderful kids.' She whispered, biting her lip. 'I don't know how we'll ever choose…' Will nodded in agreement. It was going to be a really tough decision.

Emma looked over them all one last time. There was Eva with her carrot top hair, Stevie with his adorable, floppy blonde fringe, Joe, Michael, Rebecca, Amelade, Jason, and, of course, Annabel. They were the youngest, ranging from six to nine. But then there were all of the others, too. Emma sighed in frustration. Just as she was about to turn back to Will and Kathy, who were discussing the actual adoption procedure, something caught her eye.

Or, more specifically, some_one_.

A figure, sat in the back of the room, their back turned to everyone else. They wore a dark burgundy hoodie with the hood pulled up, and sat with what looked like a guitar in their hands. Whoever it was, he or she was obviously the oldest child in the home. Judging from what Emma could see, she guessed they could be anything from fourteen onwards. She wondered why she hadn't noticed them before now, and why they hadn't joined in with all of the others.

Listening closely, she could hear the whisper of notes being plucked on strings very faintly drifting through the room.

She was entranced.

'Who is that?' she pondered aloud, interrupting the conversation. Both of the other adults looked over to where Emma was staring, and Kathy's smile quickly slipped from her face.

'Oh, you don't need to worry about him! He's much too old for what you're looking for-' she babbled hastily, trying to steer Emma away from the line of sight of the boy. Emma resisted, and instead began to make her way across the room towards him.

All she could think on her way over was how sad it was that the boy felt so alone, so rejected, that he had stopped caring when prospective parents came to visit – choosing to instead ignore the people he was sure wouldn't want him anyway. It brought tears to her eyes, and she hesitantly reached out a hand to his shoulder when she reached him.

As her hand made contact, the strings stopped playing with an abrupt _twang _as the boys tan hand slapped against them, silencing his music.

As he began to look around to Emma, whose hand was still on his shoulder, his hood fell back and curious, slightly hostile hazel-green eyes met hers. She gasped.

She did not need to hear Kathy to know this boys name. She had seen his face in countless magazines and on the television more times than she cared to remember.

'Mrs Schuester, this is Blaine Anderson.'

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><p><strong>DUN DUN DUUUUN! sorry about being a bit of a cliffy tease :P the next chapter'll be up next sunday probably...though i have my doubts. it's proving to be a dousey :P i'll try my best x in the meantime, *broken record impersonation* REVIEW!<strong>


	3. Chapter 2 pt 1

******sorry this is late, guys :S but i'm hoping you understand because this chapter is an absolute monster. i've had to split it into two parts so i could give you lovely people an update :P  
>so, i know this story seems kind of slow going at the mo, but i promise things'll start to pick up after this chapter x<br>in the meantime, please REVIEW! i don't mind busting my ass for updates if people are actually reading this, but i don't know if you are becasue i haven't really heard anything...  
>anyway. onwards.<br>oh, and i disclaim.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 pt. 1<strong>

The following Monday saw Will hurrying down the corridors of McKinley High after his last class of the day.  
>He was apprehensively making his way to the choir room. He had never been so reluctant to teach a Glee meeting in all his (three) years directing the club.<br>Well, maybe this came a close second to the whole 'accountant' disaster of sophomore year, he mused.  
>But definitely an incredibly close second.<p>

He wrung his clammy hands together nervously as his shoes continued to slap against the linoleum floor; his footsteps amplified by passing rows of metal lockers.  
>The echoes of sound seemed to be mimicking the ever-present and resonating thoughts whirling ceaselessly through his mind;<br>_right foot_ – 'should I tell them?'  
><em>left foot<em> – ' I don't suppose I really have a choice...'  
><em>right<em> – 'but what if they don't understand? Heck, I barely even understand!'  
><em>left<em> – 'No, that's not true.'  
><em>right<em> – 'is it?'  
>Round and round. Seemingly plaguing his conscience even while he slept.<p>

An exasperated huff escaped Wills lips as he rounded the final corner to the choir room.  
>It was all Emma's fault, really. Not that he blamed her. The absolute warmth and perfectly pure clarity of her heart and nature never failed to blow him away. He loved her too much to ever doubt her decision, but that didn't mean he didn't resent her just the littlest bit for leaving him to break the news to the kids. However, he had to concede that she probably has her hands just as full with her end of the bargain.<p>

He was close enough to the club now to hear the teens' apparently jovial banter – close enough to hear a short quip from Santana that sent the club into pearls of laughter.

He paused briefly by the open Choir room door, hoping beyond hope that their light hearted spirits would work in his favour as they had done on occasion in the past.  
>Bouncing once on the balls of his feet and sucking in a steeling breath through his teeth, Will plastered what he doubted was a convincing smile on his face and entered the room; ready to face his most valued and harshest critics with what was quite possibly the biggest news of his life.<p>

Whether or not it was the best, Will had yet to decide.

~o0o~

That same afternoon found Kurt Hummel all but collapsing into one of the red plastic chairs at Glee practise – his designer-skinnnies clad behind making contact with the hard surface minutes before Mr Schue finally arrived.

The boy with skin as pale and smooth as porcelain let his Marc-Jacobs satchel fall to the floor with an ungraceful thump, for once not even bothering to fret over its well being.  
>He was in too bad a mood to care.<br>His first day of senior year had not gone at all the way he had planned.

Firstly, his alarm had failed to go off. That left him waking up a mere half hour before he was due at school, meaning he was forced to spend an incredibly rushed and small amount of time on his skin – even less on his hair – and getting ready before he was running out the door with barely so much as a quick goodbye to his father and Carole; never mind a piece of toast or a cup of coffee.  
>secondly, he had pulled into the school parking lot in his black Navigator and proceeded into school only to find that even with the graduation of David Karofsky, he was still met with sneers and the cold shoulder from his fellow students.<p>

His day had only gotten worse from then on.

Rachel Berry – McKinley's resident annoyance and Kurt's self-proclaimed best friend – had immediately located Kurt at his locker as if she were lying in wait to annoy him, wasting no time in rabbiting on about sectionals, her talent, sectionals, her solos, sectionals, Finn, and surprisingly; her talent. Ever. Since.  
>It was a wonder Kurt didn't strangle her with her vile green-and-pink polka dotted scarf.<br>Complete with matching Beree and animal sweater.  
>In <em>September<em>, for God's sake.

However, despite the fact that the small brown haired girl grated on his nerves for the most part, he did love her. He had to, really. Once you got past the irritating, stubborn, LOUD exterior, you discovered that Rachel actually had a heart of gold, an infectious laugh, and was painfully loyal to her fellow Glee clubbers.  
>Well, maybe not Santana. Or Quinn most of the time. But the point still stood.<br>It just took a lot of patience and perseverance to get to it, that's all.

But that didn't mean he wasn't about ready to snap when she started up again seconds after he had crossed his legs and settled in his seat.

Instead of creatively silencing her like he yearned to, Kurt chose to instead tune her out – allowing himself to finally relax in the safe atmosphere provided by his friends. All were in high spirits, laughing and joking with one another; Sam and Finn teasing Puck about his inability to get Lauren Zizes to stay in the club, Artie, Mercedes and Santana laughing at something Brittany had said, Mike and Tina cuddled close and giggling with one another as usual.

That last observation cause a slight pang to pull somewhere in Kurts chest.  
>He loved both Mike and Tina dearly, especially Tina, but that didn't stop him from feeling slightly resentful and bitter towards their relationship. They just had it so easy. No one was constantly judging them, or throwing unprovoked insults about their sexuality in their faces every time they turned a corner.<br>Kurt would give anything to have someone to snuggle up with when it's cold, someone to buy flowers for him/for; someone other than his family or friends to tell him they loved him.

He was tired of being alone. Nearly desperate to have someone he could call his own, and who could call him theirs.  
>Unfortunately, being seemingly the only out gay kid in Lima, Ohio, apparently doomed him to being single until he could get out of there – to New York, preferably.<p>

The loud laughter of the club that came in response to something Santana had said (but Kurt had missed in the bleak turmoil of his thoughts) brought the stylish teen out of his brooding just in time to see Mr Schue walk through the door; a very fake, strained smile on his face.  
>It was possible that Kurt could smother his own problems for one more year by focussing on someone else's. And, judging by the way their director timidly called the clubs attention and confessed to having an announcement, an opportunity had just opened up for Kurt to do just that.<p>

Maybe his senior year would be bearable after all.  
>Or, most likely, not.<p>

~o0o~

Will couldn't help but gulp nervously - in what would be a comical manner if the situation weren't so serious - as all eyes in the room landed on him. Some were attentive, and some curious. Will noted that Kurt looked particularly interested, but he would wonder about that later. Right now he had to man up and stop procrastinating. It was time to tell them, consequences be damned.  
>He allowed himself a small, dry laugh in his head. Hah. 'Consequences be damned'. If only it were that easy.<p>

'Uh, Mr Schue? You okay?'  
>Finns voice brought the teacher out of his cynical musings. He realised that he was yet to say anything other than a feeble 'all right, guys'; every Glee clubbers attention focussed on him in what had to be the first time in a while.<p>

He took a deep breath. _Here goes nothing_.

'Right, yeah...so. I have an announcement to make, Guys. It's pretty big.' He couldn't help but notice that it came out slightly higher than usual, and cursed his nerves for the pitch change. He cleared his throat, and continued on in what he hoped was a stronger, more confident tone of voice; 'as you know, Emma and I have been planning on starting a family of our own for a while now.'

Their faces instantly brightened, most of them sitting up straighter in their seats excitedly. Will saw, not without amusement, Rachel lean forward expectantly – anticipating her directors next words.

Now allowing himself to smile properly for what had to be the first time today, he took in their caring faces. His nerves vanished. He wondered what he had been afraid of in the first place. Sitting before him was the group of the most understanding, caring, _accepting_ people he had ever met. Of course they would welcome his news with open arms. If not, then Will was at least confident that they would respect it.

'Well, it's finally happened! Emma and I went out to the Home near Westerville on Saturday and brought someone back with us. I'm actually a father, Guys!' the obvious happiness in his voice surprised him, but apparently the club expected nothing less.  
>The kids erupted in cheers and whooping, shouting congratulations at their mentor - Finn and Rachel going so far as to rush forward and envelope him in a big hug. Will laughed. He hadn't felt this light, this genuinely <em>happy<em>, since that wonderful day he had married the woman he loved three years ago.  
>That was, until, reality came crashing back as the kids started asking him the questions he had dreaded.<p>

'That's so great, Mr Schue! Is it a little boy or girl?'

'I can't wait to meet them! I bet they're just adorable...did you get to name him? Her?'

'We're going to be such great role models for this kid! Can't you just imagine teaching them all about music as they grow up?'

'Yeah! And diversity and stuff too!'

It was with a heavy heart that Will calmly tried to get their attention back from where it had wandered. This was what he had been afraid of the minute they had started the drive back from Westerville. The kids were going to be crushed when they realised their fantasies were unable to become reality in this particular instance.  
>Finally having settled back in their seats, the Glee clubbers once again opened their ears to Will. That is, all except Kurt who hadn't moved in the first place. He had continued to watch Mr Schue carefully, apparently suspecting that there was more. And rightly so.<p>

'Yeah, thanks guys. It really means a lot to Emma and I that you care so much for our family. But, there's more.' His slightly more solemn tone didn't fail to register with his audience. Nearly identical looks of concern flashed across every face. All except Brittany, however, who, bless her, just looked confused.

'What do you mean...more?' Sam asked carefully, slowly. The blonde had a bad feeling about this, but he couldn't place why.

'well,' Mr Schue shifted nervously for what had to be the hundredth time that day, 'they're, um, rather a bit older than we had expected...' he smiled sheepishly.

'So...the little brat's what, like, twelve or something?' Santana asked, still obviously just as confused as everyone else by their directors behaviour.

'Uh, well, no. They're not really small at all. Well, they are, but...um, not like that.' It didn't make all that much sense even to his ears. A beat of silence. Then:

'What?' Kurts sudden participation made Will jump. He looked up and realised that the same question was written on everybody's face.

With a resigned sigh, Will geared himself up for the explosion.

'He's seventeen.'

...

'I didn't know you could get babies that were seventeen...'

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><p><strong>XD bit of Brittany at the end there, incase anyone didn't catch it :P pt 2 should be up some time between now and next Sunday...probably sunday as i've had my laptop confiscated, but i'll try my best. :S<br>just one more shameless plea...review? :( x  
>Kj 3<br>**


	4. Chapter 2 pt 2

**because i love you all so much, and becasue a select few amazing people actually reviewed and motivated me, have another chapter :)  
>this is the longest one yet, and i hope you're not dissapointed ;)<strong>

**I DON'T OWN ANYTHING! not even a heart shaped eye patch :( x  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 pt 2<strong>

Kurt blanched.  
><em>seventeen? <em>How the hell had that happened? Who goes to a 'children's' home and comes back with a near adult? That was just a year younger than him; the same age as Tina and Artie, in fact.  
>Kurt, like many of the others in the room, could only sit and gape at Mr Schue.<br>The teacher was still stood uncomfortably in front of them all, and Kurt suspected that whatever reaction the director had anticipated, this wasn't it. But he couldn't bring himself to care. Adopting a seventeen year old made absolutely no sense to him whatsoever.

And neither, apparently, to Finn. _But that wasn't saying much_, Kurt thought rather vindictively. Don't get him wrong, he and the jock got on okay after their parents' union, but the somewhat dopey quarterback still got on his nerves on occasion. Like now, for example.

'But...a seventeen year old isn't a kid! They're, like, _old_. I thought you and Mrs Pillsbury-Schue wanted a baby?' the tall teen said somewhat dumbly.  
>Kurt snorted. Way to point out the obvious. A few people turned to glance at Kurt curiously before nodding in agreement with Finns words.<p>

'Yeah, I thought you wanted a little person to ruin your lives, not a big one with angsty family issues and crap.' Santana voiced what appeared to be the question Mr Schue had wanted to avoid, judging by the way he scratched the back of his neck apprehensively.

'Well, we had _intended_ to adopt someone quite a bit younger...but,' he sighed. 'Emma saw this boy and I suppose she just knew that he was the one for us.'  
>Quinn 'awww'ed quietly at his words. How sweet, she thought. Unlike the others, this whole adoption thing hit a lot closer to home with her. After giving up her baby, Beth, two years ago, Quinn appreciated that there were all sorts of kids in care – not necessarily 'angsty' ones, as Santana creatively labelled them. If the Schuesters could find it in their hearts to accept and love this boy, well, so could they. She said as much to the club.<p>

'It shouldn't matter how old he is.' She stated to the rest, meeting their gazes levelly when they turned to her, surprised. 'If he needs a home, he needs a home. So what if he's not what _we _expected, even if it is our family he's joining!' the club smiled when she said family. Because that's exactly what they were. They were dysfunctional, loud, and rude to each other most of the time, but that didn't mean they didn't love each other. 'I for one intend to accept and appreciate this boy, because that's the least we can do for him and Mr Schue. Mr Schue,' here she turned her fiery green gaze to the teacher – 'don't listen to them. You and Mrs Schue have done the right thing. We all ought to take another leaf out of your book and do the same.' She sat back, satisfied that her words had impacted the club like they should. Mercedes leaned over and patted her knee, smiling encouragingly and somewhat proudly. Quinn caught her hand between her own and kept it there, squeezing gratefully. Mercedes had immediately known where the former Cheerios captain was coming from, as the two had formed a strong bond after the Jones family took Quinn in after her father threw her pregnant sixteen year old self out.

'Quinn's right.' Artie chimed in from the front row of plastic seats. 'This kid is probably just like us! An underdog, someone just trying to find a place for himself.' He smiled at the Glee club director. 'Good for you, Mr Schue.'

Will positively beamed from the front of the room. _There_ were the kids he knew. He had been worried when his revelation was met with blank stares and silence – save for Brittany – but now his fears were gone. He knew now that he and Emma didn't have to do this alone; that this group of teens sat before him, smiling at him and celebrating his family, would be there for him as he had been there for them. He also knew that if Emma were here with him, she would probably be crying.  
>His stomach twisted unpleasantly when he remembered Emma. He wondered how she was holding up.<p>

Puck, as if reading Mr Schuesters mind, suddenly spoke up from the back of the room;  
>'so where's Mrs Schue? I would've thought she'd be here to break the news too.' Ignoring the fact that it was none other than <em>Puck<em> to notice her absence, the Kids looked around as if expecting her to suddenly pop out from behind the piano, muttering 'oh yeahs' as they did.

Rachel squealed from beside Kurt, making the teen jump and scowl at her.  
>'oooooh is she with him? Are they here? Can we meet them? I can't wait to introduce them to my talent! Maybe we should plan a welcome-' she was cut off with a muffled <em>mmmpf! <em>as Kurt clapped his hand over her mouth. He sighed. _Peace at last_.

The rest of the gleeks chuckled at the indignant expression on Rachel's partially obscured face before looking back to Mr Schue for an answer to Pucks question.  
>Mr Schue grinned sheepishly.<p>

'Emma's with him; they're in her office right now. He starts school here tomorrow, so we thought it'd be a good idea to show him around and introduce him to you guys today. That way he'll at least know some people, and have a vague idea of where his classes are.'  
>Kurt yelped as Rachel licked his hand to get free.<p>

'Berry, that is DISGUSTING!' he exclaimed, wiping his hand on her leg as she stuck her tongue out at him.

'That's a great idea Mr Schue! Can we please see him now? Pleeease? Maybe he can join Glee!' she was practically bouncing in excitement.  
>Will chuckled at her enthusiasm, looking fondly over the other equally as excited faces as he did so.<p>

'Sure.' He smiled. The word was met with a brief cheer, and the kids started chatting to each other happily;

'I wonder what he looks like!'  
>'I bet he's a total badass!'<br>'Nah, he's probably really quiet and shy...'  
>'Do you think he can sing?'<br>'or maybe dance!'

The smile faded from Will's face as he listened to them. He owed them a small warning, at least.

'Kids.' They all turned to look at him once more, surprised by the sudden serious tone of his voice. 'Just...be careful with him, okay? He's been through a lot – more than any of you could imagine, and it's left its scars.' He grimaced. 'literally,' He added.  
>The faces looking back at him now looked slightly apprehensive, but there was nothing he could do about that now. 'I'll just go get them. Wait here, and...don't <em>stare<em>, okay?' he left the room to bewildered silence. The club looked at each other when he was gone.  
><em>'That doesn't bode well at all<em>' was written in every worried eye.

~o0o~

Emma shuffled the pamphlets on her desk until they were all perfectly aligned; trying not to look too long at the teenager slumped in one of the chairs before her. She had learned quickly that he hated to be stared at. She could hear his tongue piercing tapping against his lower teeth – his scruffy converse clad foot beating the same rhythm onto the floor.  
>Neither of them spoke.<p>

The silence pretty much reflected their entire few days together.

As soon as they had returned home from Westerville, Emma had shown him to his room and he had stayed there for the rest of the day; only the faint sound of music reminding the Schuesters that he was there and his quiet, gruff refusal of dinner being the only words he spoke to them.  
>He didn't speak to them much, but Emma discovered that Sunday - when they went to the mall to get him a few things - that he would speak only when someone else spoke to him first, and was incredibly polite.<br>That had surprised her the most.  
>Looking at his plain, scruffy appearance, you would not expect him to open doors for Emma or wordlessly take the shopping bags from the cashier and carry them all day. She neither needed nor expected his quiet, sincere thanks when she had handed him his new things, and was baffled when he took the trash she was trying to throw out from her hands and did it for her.<br>All in near absolute silence.

Emma glanced up at the clock on the wall.  
>3.46. The school day had ended at 3.15, and Glee club had started at twenty past. She wondered if Will had told the kids yet, and, if so, how they had reacted. She smiled and giggled quietly, knowing that Will would have had his hands full regardless. She loved those kids, but they could be described as nothing short of wild.<p>

The rhythmic tapping stopped, and Emma looked up to be met with curious, bright Hazel green eyes.  
>Those eyes never ceased to make her breath catch, and she had found them trained on her, watching her, on more than one occasion.<br>Always with the same curiousness and slight confusion; just as they held now.  
>Her eyes travelled briefly over his beautiful tan face, and she smiled at him before speaking.<p>

'I was just thinking about Will.' She giggled again, 'I left him to tell the Glee club our good news, and those kids are probably bouncing around the choir room walls.' She felt a familiar tug in her chest, just like the one she had felt that Saturday, as she saw the brief surprise flicker behind those eyes. Surprise caused by being referred to as good news.  
>His eyes suddenly darkened, and he looked back to his shoes once more, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. No doubt he had seen the pity in her face. She needed to watch that. Another thing she learned about him was that he hated being pitied as much as he loved music.<br>The ever-present ear buds were dangling out over the collar of his plain V-neck now, the wire disappearing under his T-shirt to reappear at the hem – snaking into his jeans pocket. The ipod in that pocket was probably the only thing he brought to Lima with him, other than his guitar, that he showed any attachment or care for.  
>Other than a ratty old backpack and a few clothes, those were practically the only things he <em>had<em> brought with him.  
>However, what Emma suspected he valued most was hung around his neck, dangling on a reasonably long silver chain that fell below the neckline of his top. She knew for a fact that hanging on that chain was a gorgeously engraved, expensive looking silver locket; she had seen him playing with it in his hand almost absentmindedly more than once. She deduced that it must be a habit – he did it when he was uncomfortable or merely thinking. Not for the first time, she wondered what that locket held as he played with it now. It had probably belonged to his mother.<p>

Emma was jolted out of her thoughts when Will stuck his head around her office door, glancing once at their fostered son before looking to her.  
>The couple had fostered Blaine as it didn't make sense to adopt him yet; not when he was already seventeen and could very well leave them when he turned eighteen.<p>

'Are you guys ready?' he asked her, smiling at Blaine when he glanced up at him. 'Blaine? Ready to meet everyone? They're very excited.' Something in his smile faltered when he said that last part, and Emma was immediately apprehensive. Blaine simply looked at him steadily - reading his face - before giving a short nod.

Both Emma and Blaine stood and made their way out of the office; Blaine pausing at the door to allow Emma to walk through first. Both Will and Emma beamed at him before moving toward the choir room hand in hand, their new son trailing behind as his converse scuffed against the linoleum.

When they reached the appropriate doorway, Will stopped and turned to Blaine.  
>'You ok?' he asked, and Blaine nodded again.<br>'Fine, thank you.' He responded quietly, avoiding Will's eyes and trying not to see Emma's happy smile.  
>Will looked at him a moment, then spoke again.<br>'Good, good. Ok, so these kids are amazing people Blaine. They may seem like a little much at first, but you need to give them a chance.' He squeezed the teens shoulder briefly, and Blaine met his eyes – hazel to blue. Those eyes flickered to Emma briefly, who smiled encouragingly, before they looked back to Will. Blaine nodded.  
>'Ok.' He whispered, dropping his gaze once more.<p>

Will clapped him on the back once before guiding him into the room, all conversation falling silent upon their entrance.

~o0o~

Kurt looked up from his phone when everything fell quiet.  
>Rachel gasped softly beside him; many of the other girls in the room reaching up to cover their mouths with their hands as they stared. Kurt followed their line of sight and saw Mr Schue had returned, this time accompanied by Emma, and-<p>

Oh.

_Oh_.

Stood next to Mrs Pillsbury was no doubt the cause of Rachel's gasp, the dumbstruck expressions on the girls' faces.  
>He was an absolute <em>god<em>.

Dark, almost black curls fell onto his forehead in gorgeous spirals from under his hood, tickling black triangular shaped eyebrows before they stopped. A silver stud adorned his left eyebrow, sitting atop a line of thin scar tissue that cut through the hair towards the boy's temple – continuing just into the hair line there. Wide, glittering Hazel-green eyes looked up at them from underneath. Kurt had never seen eyes so captivating, so _beautiful_; framed by long, thick dark lashes that brushed his angular cheek bones every time he blinked. The smooth, tan skin of his cheeks was flawless, all except three long scars that marred his left cheek. Two were parallel, the top one cutting down from his outer cheekbone and stopping a few inches before it reached his nostril; the second following nearly the same path, just below the first. The third scar started at around the same place as the other two, lower on his jaw, but veered off toward the corner of boy's mouth, ending just below. He licked his full, pink lips nervously; unknowingly offering the club a glimpse of the silver stud in his tongue when he caught it between his perfect teeth.  
>Kurt didn't know real people that looked this good <em>existed<em>, never mind being able to believe one stood in front of him in a high school choir room. And he only got better.  
>his clothes were plain, especially by Kurt's standards, but fitted him well; an open blue hoodie over a plain white V-neck that clung to his muscular torso in all the right places, and dark skinny jeans that disappeared into a scruffy pair of hot pink high-top converse.<br>He was just..._unbelievable_.

And he also looked very uncomfortable under so many pairs of eyes' scrutiny.

The club was quite literally rendered speechless.  
>If not by his devastating good-looks, then by his scarred appearance. Mr Schue hadn't been kidding when he had said 'literally'.<p>

Rachel shifted beside Kurt, and the teen glanced at her to see her staring rather a lot harder at the boy than anyone else. Kurt could practically hear the gears turning in her head, and he wondered what she could possibly be thinking about so hard and that required such intense concentration.

Kurt looked back to the front of the room and saw that the Schuester's were apparently at a loss for words, or perhaps didn't know what to say. Emma glanced nervously at the boy beside her, who, Kurt noticed with slight shock, wasn't all that much taller than her; he had to be smaller than Kurt by at least three or four inches. He looked so small stood next to their director at the front. This was intensified now that he had dropped his gaze to his shoes – resolutely not meeting any eyes. His compact body shifted, and the movement seemed to bring some people out of their trances.

Suddenly, Brittany skipped up to the boy and pulled him into an unexpected hug – the shocked look on his face was almost comical.

'Hi!' she said cheerfully as she pulled away from the one-way hug, 'I'm Brittany. You're pretty.' Her innocent, undoubtedly sincere voice seemed to reach the boy, as he smiled at her ever so slightly.

'Thank you.' He whispered, though he sounded like he didn't believe her. It seemed only fitting that his voice would sound like music. 'It's nice to meet you Brittany; you're very pretty too, you know.'  
>The cheerio beamed at him, then turned to Santana.<p>

'San!' she called happily, not registering the bewildered look on her best friends face, 'he called me pretty!' she turned back to him. 'Come meet Santana; she's a bit of a bitch, but really nice.' She grabbed his hand and tried to tug him forward before Mr Schue stopped her gently. He had seen the slight flash of fear cross Blaine's face at the prospect of walking into the group that still stared at him dumbly.

'Hang on Brittany, give him some space. I know you wouldn't want to be dragged into a group of people you didn't know.' He said carefully, placing a protective hand on Blaine's shoulder. The teen tensed at the touch, but Will kept his hand there.

'Oh.' Brittany frowned, 'you don't have to be scared,' she said, keeping hold of his hand, 'every bodies really great. Kurt takes me shopping, Mercedes braids my hair, and Santana is my best friend in the whole world.' She pointed out everyone as she said their names, the boy's eyes following her finger and resting on each person in turn. Kurt gasped when the boy's eyes bore into his own. They seemed to linger longer on his face than any other, though Kurt probably imagined that. The boy blushed slightly as Kurt returned his stare, the colour accentuating his beauty further, before he moved his gaze over to Mercedes. She waved shyly, and he smiled timidly back. Brittany continued introducing everyone;  
>'that blonde guy with the big mouth is Sam, next to him is Finn, and next to Finn is Quinn. The guy In the wheelchair is Artie,' she whispered the next sentence loudly to him, almost conspiratorially – 'his legs don't work.' The boy snorted, his gradual smile widening. In turn, Emma and Will's smiles got bigger as well. They were so happy to see Blaine slowly becoming more comfortable.<p>

Brittany went on to introduce Mike and Tina, Puck, and finally Rachel.  
>Kurt glanced at Rachel again when Brittany pointed to her. Her mouth fell open with a soft 'oh' as the teen's eyes rested on her face. Kurt frowned. He didn't actually know the boy's name; none of them did. Or so he thought.<p>

Rachel's eyes seemed to get brighter, and Kurt practically heard the _click _as her thoughts fell into place with direct eye contact from their subject. The boy seemed to realise this as well, and the smile fell quickly from his face as Rachel began to bounce again. His grip on Brittany's hand noticeably tightened, and the Cheerleader looked down to their entwined fingers curiously.

'I know who you are!' Rachel squealed, pointing a finger at him. He took a step back, bumping into Will's chest and dropping Brittany's hand as though it had scalded him.

'Rachel-' the teacher began, but the brunette ignored him. He seemed suddenly worried, Kurt noted with another frown; Mr Schue glanced at the boy's scarred face, then at his wife helplessly. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Rachel spoke over him.

'You're Blaine Anderson! I recognize you from when you were in all the magazines and on T.V.' Rachel sat back smugly, triumphantly; proud that she had finally figured out why he looked so familiar.

The rest of the club looked shocked, whipping their heads around to stare at – Blaine? – again; Kurt amongst them. Finally trying to look past the boys blinding looks, Kurt and the glee club really _saw_ him for the first time.

He was.

He was Blaine Anderson.

His face was scarred and pierced, his hair longer and his clothes cheaper, but he was undoubtedly the boy that had fascinated the media for years.  
>The rich, popular, over-achiever that every teenage boy had wished they could be at least once.<p>

_The boy who's mother had killed herself_. Kurt remembered with a sharp pang. _The boy who's father had put him in a coma for three weeks, nearly dead. _

Suddenly the scars on his face looked anything but beautiful.

The sound of someone saying his name, like they knew him - like it was an _achievement, _seemed to be it for Blaine. His breath noticeably came faster, in shorter bursts, and he began to shake his head as if to deny his identity. He stumbled backwards past Will, ignoring the director calling his name.  
>His hands came up to grip the sides of his head, pushing his hood back and allowing more curls to fall free. He squeezed his eyes shut – all the while Mr Schue kept saying his name, trying to get his attention.<p>

'Will.' Emma suddenly spoke up, her eyes on Blaine. 'Stop saying his name.'  
>Will looked at her in bewilderment.<p>

'What? Why?' he sounded bewildered as well. It didn't make sense to the Glee kids either.

'Just do it!' she said forcefully. Will blanched at the sudden change in her usually gentle tone, but did as she said.

Everyone but Blaine watched in awe as she moved towards him, coming to stop directly in front of him. She placed her small hands over his, helping him block out any sound. His eyes flew open at her touch and he looked directly into hers; seeing only the kind, bambi-esque light brown – nothing else.  
>She held his head firmly there, her eyes boring into his.<p>

After what felt like minutes, his breath began to slow; his shoulders relaxing.

Emma, noticing the change, pulled his head to her shoulder and hugged him there tightly. There was the briefest moment of hesitation before his strong arms wound around her small frame, holding tight. His shoulders began to shake against her.  
>Emma looked at Will over his head and inclined her own toward the door. Will, understanding, wound his arm around Blaine's shoulders and guided him out of the room – the boys grip on Emma's waist never loosening as she let go of his head and placed her own arm around his middle.<p>

The group slowly left the club behind, the teen's shocked gazes meeting their backs as they watched the party leave; the small, shaking figure held firmly between them.

* * *

><p><strong>sorry if the ending sucks a bit... i wanted to keep what happens next for chapter three, which is from Blaines perspective :)<br>speaking of which, i'm not sure when the next chapter will be up... it shouldn't be longer than a week, but i've avoided a lot of revision doing this already :S  
>review? :P x<br>Kj 3**


	5. Chapter 3

******i'm sorry this is late, but i just couldn't get it to cooperate with me :( i'm still not happy with it - i didn't do it aswell as i could have - so i apologise if it sucks :S  
>particularly for this chapter, all reviews are greatly appreciated 3<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter three<strong>

'_I know who you are! You're Blaine Anderson!'_

The statement reverberated through his mind, vibrating in his ears and pounding in his veins.

No.

He couldn't do this again. He took a step back as the images came, overpowering the sight of the small dark haired teen in front of him. The ordinary choir room began to fade; the curious faces blurring and wavering out of focus.  
>Flashes of past camera bulbs flared across his vision, the echoes of hungry, unsympathetic taunts and cries filled the air around him.<p>

He shook his head in a futile attempt to clear it, but it was too late.  
>It was happening again.<p>

His hands flew up to cover his ears, his eyes squeezed closed.  
>But it wasn't enough.<br>That day came back to him with the speed of a freight train, threatening to bowl him over into oblivion as it had done countless times before.

'_Blaine!'  
>'hey, Anderson!'<br>'smile for the camera, rich boy!'_

_The bright flashes of hundreds of Paparazzi cameras illuminated the dreary March day, heavy grey clouds weighing down upon the sky outside the courthouse.  
>Blaine stumbled down the steps, trying with all his might to hide his ruined face from the tabloids and press. His hands clutched hopelessly at stiff white bandages as the firm hand on his shoulder tightened.<br>He winced.  
>Everything still hurt.<br>_Flash  
><em>but not as much as their heartlessness and indifference.<br>His foot slipped on the damp step – he lost his balance slightly.  
>They jeered, finding entertainment in his misery and heavy head as the social worker steadied him with a grim expression. He chanced a glance ahead, but immediately dropped his gaze as the sight of two burly security offices restraining the mob of journalists greeted the risky move.<br>They watched him come closer with eager, greedy eyes. All of them clamouring for the 'scoop'. The 'story'.  
>Blaine had appreciated a good tragedy himself and had idolized Shakespeare; but apparently the poetry was lost to the subject of the tale. After all, who wanted the greatest disasters of their lives written out for all to see? Claimed 'great works of literacy' and preserved for future enjoyment? Not him.<br>Though his seemed to be everywhere – apparently best sellers, his mother's face and blank, empty eyes making the cover of sequel after sequel.  
>Yes, their callous glee and lack of empathy or even a <em>heart _managed to surpass his physical pain, and inflict wounds where he thought none should ever be able to open.  
>His very being was filled with the sound of them calling his name, if only to get him to look up long enough for a photo; their taunts thrown out carelessly in the hope of triggering a reaction, a <em>rise_.  
>But try as he might, he could not hate them.<br>Only envy them. Them and their ability to feel nothing. To feel no form of emotional turmoil at another's expense, to not care in the slightest that he had lost everything. Only remaining interested enough to earn their next pay check.  
>Blaine was not bitter, he was not angry, and he was not filled with a sense of injustice or black fury that everyone seemed to expect.<br>He was sad.  
>Empty.<br>The only thing filling him, keeping him grounded, was his name.  
>'Blaine! Blaine! Blaine! Blaine! Blaine! Blaine! Blaine! Blaine! Blaine! Blaine! Blaine! Blaine! Blaine!'<br>Screamed from unknown mouths, stranger's faces contorting around it.  
>And for the first time in his life, he hated it.<br>He would give anything, _anything_, to be known as someone else. Someone who had something other than gossip to their name; no other fortune but love and family to inherit and look after.  
>His fingers curled into the hair at his ears, his palms pressing down with painful force to make the sound go away.<br>'Blaine! Blaine! Blaine! Blaine! Blaine! Blaine! Blaine! Blaine! Blaine! Blaine! Blaine! Blaine! Blaine!'  
>His footsteps slapped against concrete as he was hurried to a waiting car – his body shook with tremors as a fierce winter wind cut through the layers of his clothing.<br>Every spasm of his shoulders jarred his ribs, dislodged his hands. He panicked. The sound was creeping back in._

'Blaine!'

_It wouldn't be silenced, it wouldn't be stopped..._

'Blaine!'

_Please, just make it stop-_

But suddenly, this time, it did.  
>Small, soft hands closed over his own, bringing him back to himself.<br>His eyes snapped open and were met with a sea of chocolate brown. Gentle, rich, reassuring. Her eyes gazed steadily into his own.  
>He couldn't hear anything. Nothing but the sound his own ragged breath slowing and easing. He saw only her, heard only himself.<br>Suddenly, he was being held – his face pressed into soft fabric smelling of comfort. Warmth emitted from the skin underneath, just as it had from her eyes.  
>Such warmth.<br>Such _kindness_.  
>He felt his own arms wind irresistibly around his saviour, engulfing him in a sea of seemingly bottomless care, and...pity? Empathy?<br>No.  
>love.<br>Once again he felt himself being guided away from his tormentors, but this time the pressure on his shoulder was reassuring. Another body of comfort joined the first. They held him between them softly, tenderly.  
>And for the first time in six months, he felt safe.<p>

~o0o~

It did not take the glee clubbers long to get over their shock and turn on Rachel.

As the footsteps in the corridor retreated back in the direction of Emma's office, each face in turn came back to itself and fixed Rachel with an accusatory glare of its own.

Rachel remained unaware of her audience as she continued to gape at the open doorway. She couldn't believe what she had done.  
>But, what <em>had<em> she done, exactly? She didn't understand what had happened. Blaine had reacted as if he were allergic to the sound of his own name – but, that was ridiculous. No one disliked their own name _that_ much. Sure, Rachel wished as much as the next person that her dads had called her Barbara, but not so much as to be rendered catatonic at the sound of 'Rachel'.

The short diva was brought out of her obscure thought process by a smack to the arm from Quinn, who had reached over to her from the front row of seats.

'Ow!' she cried indignantly, rubbing a hand over the smarting skin. 'What was that for?'  
>Obviously, that was the wrong thing to say.<br>The club exploded in angry shouts.

'What do you mean, what was that for? Are you on crack! _Idiota'  
><em>'I can't believe you! What did you do that for?'  
>'He looked as if you had screeched your dub step of 'My Headband' into his ear!'<br>'What is _wrong_ with you?'

Rachel's eyes began to fill with tears; she hadn't meant to hurt anyone.  
>She had only used her brilliant, creative mind to realise and point out that there was a celebrity in their midst.<br>What was so wrong with that?  
>She didn't know he would freak out!<p>

Finn, seeing his girlfriend's distress, quickly waded into the angry mob that had surrounded her to help.

'Hey, come on guys. Rach didn't know that would happen. She, I dunno, probably thought she was flattering him or something...' he scratched the back of his neck nervously as they turned their glares to him, but held his ground.

Puck snorted.  
>'Yeah, who would've thought pointing at him and reminding him we all knew about his shitty life would upset him?' unknowingly, Puck seemed to remind the teens of the severity of the situation with his scathing comment. Angry expressions morphed into worried, unsure ones as they glanced at each other helplessly.<p>

'Do you think that was what upset him?' all faces turned to Mike in surprise. 'Being reminded of all that, I mean.'

They considered this carefully.  
>Kurt thought that was the most likely explanation. He choked up whenever he thought about his mother, though he was sure his reaction wouldn't be anywhere near as big as Blaine's if he were reminded of her in such a sudden, thoughtless way.<br>He would be angry, sure, but not so distressed as to be reduced to a shaking, trembling mess.  
>But then again, his mother had been taken away from him with at least some warning – her having cancer, after all – whereas Jade Anderson had taken her own life away from her family suddenly and unexpectedly.<br>Kurt knew that he would not want to be reminded of such a hole in his life – of a wound that was undoubtedly still open and weeping.

Looking at the faces of his fellow classmates, Kurt knew they thought the same.  
>For once in high school, the Glee club could agree on something. It was a bittersweet moment.<p>

'We have to do something!' Rachel exclaimed agitatedly, the club blanching slightly at her use of _we_. She had caused this mess, after all. 'Maybe we should apologise? Or sing a ballad of hurt, loss and comfort to him? I have the perf-' it was luck Tina cut Rachel off. Santana had started to look as if she were ready to whip the razor blades out of her air if Rachel continued to speak.

'No.' Tina spoke with such assured firmness and finality that everyone quietened down to listen to the often out-spoken member. 'Telling him we're sorry for him would be the worst we could do.' she looked at the others with all of her usual sweetness, but this time with unmatched determination; 'Probably all he's had since...well, you know, is pity. Is people feeling sorry for him, but not actually caring about him enough to give him what he needs. He doesn't need our sympathy, he needs our _friendship_. He needs us to remind him that he is just like anyone else at this school, and that there are genuinely good people out there.' She looked around at all of the faces focused on her, and smiled at her friends. 'I don't know about you, but I think I'll do just that.'  
>Mike smiled proudly at his girlfriend and with such love and affection that the others smiled. The dancer pulled her under his arm and planted a kiss to the top of her head.<p>

'I'm with you, Tina.' Murmurs of agreement followed his promise as the remaining teens did the same.

'Blaine Anderson has just gotten himself a new best friend!'  
>Kurt was not the only one to role his eyes, once again, at Rachel.<p>

But he, surprisingly, partly agreed with what she had said.  
>Blaine had found himself a new best friend, but it certainly wasn't her.<p>

~o0o~

'Blaine? Sweetie?'

Blaine lifted his head from where it angled toward his plate and looked across the table at Emma, his fork pushing the rice and chicken around absently.

Their eyes met.

Blaine once again dropped his gaze.

He didn't understand it; didn't understand _her_. How could she see through him so easily? Why did looking into those eyes give him the feeling that his mind was being read – his every thought, feeling and emotion tumbling into her own, unbidden?  
>Only one other person had ever been able to see through him like that.<p>

Blaine frowned and dropped his fork to his plate as his throat closed up.

_Stop it_, he thought viciously to himself; _she's gone_.

He could still feel Emma's eyes on him.  
>He looked up once again; carefully avoiding any flashes of brown directed his way.<p>

'Do you want to talk about it?'

He winced at her words.  
>The same ones spoken to him by countless hospital psychiatrists, all trying to get into his head and analyse his feelings as he lay trapped in a hard, uncomfortably generic bed.<p>

Try as they might, however, they never succeeded. All they had gotten out of Blaine was a whispered 'Yes.' when they had asked him if _he_ had done it.  
>Blaine hadn't said anything else during his conscious stint in hospital except to quietly thank the kind nurses as they helped him.<br>People he could no longer think about without Emma's face popping up into his head. Only her tenderness rivalled theirs.

'Hon?'

Blaine smiled slightly. It had not escaped his notice that the woman had avoided calling him by his name since the episode in school that afternoon.  
>He appreciated it greatly.<br>Blaine wasn't sure he understood why, but he just wanted to be something other than 'Blaine Anderson' for a while. Too many bad memories were tied to that name. Every minute he spent with Emma, he found himself becoming more and more attached to her.  
>He didn't know if it was her undoubtedly sweet nature, or her unthreateningly tiny, bird-like build.<br>All Blaine knew was that he had to be careful. He could not let her get so close to him that she would have the power to cripple him with a single word, or sudden absence. So that it would not break him too much when she turned on him as all the others had.  
>For this reason, he found himself shaking his head minutely.<br>She already knew some things, but she didn't need to know everything.

A familiar as-of-Saturday silence settled over the table.  
>Blaine was looking at his plate again, patiently waiting to be excused so he could be alone.<br>He hated the ever present loneliness that seemed to follow him around everywhere he went, but he thought he would take that any day over the 'aren't we such a happy family' facade.  
>Because if Blaine had recently experienced anything of value, it was that families were most definitely not happy.<p>

'So, Blaine. Are you looking forward to school tomorrow? It must be nice to be back around kids your own age.' Will was desperately trying to engage Blaine in conversation, but it seemed that the teen had a peculiar reluctance to interact with him. He wasn't sure why, but he figured Emma would know. He made a mental note to ask her later.  
>His fostered son looked up at him with his big, questioning eyes; his smooth brow wrinkling slightly under his curls. He always looked at Will as if he were trying to figure him out – work out what his angle was. Why?<br>That was yet another question for Emma.  
>Blaine cleared his face of all emotion.<br>It was not the first time he had done it, and Mr Schue knew from the first time he saw it that it was Blaine's mask. The boy hid behind it when he didn't want people to know what he was thinking.

'Yes, sir. Thank you for asking.'  
>His response was measured, quiet. His tone of voice was equally so. No emotion other than cool politeness (was that even an emotion?) was present.<p>

It worried the married couple to no end, and made Will feel particularly uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat at the head of the table and lowered his fork, looking at Blaine.  
>Once again, he was not looking at either of them.<p>

'Blaine. You know you can call me Will, right? And you can call Emma, Emma. This is your home now. We're not your teachers here.'  
>Blaine looked up at him again, studying his face. There was a pause, then;<p>

'Yes, sir.' He turned to Emma. 'May I please be excused?'

She glanced at Will before nodding her head minutely.

Blaine mumbled a 'Thank you ma'am' as he slipped from the table and headed to his room, leaving both Schuesters staring after him in a concerned silence; at a loss as to what they should do.

* * *

><p><strong>so this isn't where i had initially planned on ending this chap, but it was already late and i knew if i faffed around anymore you'd never get it :P<strong>

**review?**

**and i promise i'll do my best to update in a week, but life and particularly school are crazy at the mo :(**

**Kj x**


	6. Chapter 4

*******guilty cough*.  
>soooo...i know its been a while, and i am really, really sorry. i fully blame my lack of updating on exams, as they are thouroughly kicking my ass and i really need to ace them if i want to get into Cambridge after colledge. O.O i completely understand if i have lost several readers, but i really hope that most of you guys have stuck with me. i fully intend to complete this fic, but updastes will be staggered for the next two months, minimum :S SORRY.<strong>

**I'll let you get your reading on now, and i know i probably don't deserve it but if you could review that would make my day as i don't really like this chap and would like to know what you think :) love all you lovely readers who have waited for me XD 3**

**LET THE STORY finally COMMENCE.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter four<strong>

Blaine allowed the wooden door to swing closed with a quiet _click, _turning and pressing his forehead to the cool, almost smooth surface. He could feel his breath reflecting back towards him as he squeezed his eyes closed and breathed deeply.  
>Through the wall he could hear the Schuesters talking quietly to one another; the scrape of a chair and clatter of plates as the table was cleared.<p>

He didn't know if he could do this. There was far too much at stake.  
>The way the puzzlingly kind woman and oddly caring man looked at him baffled him to no end.<br>_What was their angle?_  
>He had no doubt that they must be in this together, but what for? He didn't inherit anything from his mother until he was eighteen. There was no way...<em>that man <em>would have anything to do with him after he served his time. Between social services and his own prejudices, Blaine wouldn't be surprised if he never saw the man again. And he certainly wouldn't complain if he never did.

No, they couldn't be after money. Why not just adopt him and get it all straight away if that was the case?  
>Blaine frowned; the metal in his eyebrow catching slightly on the grooved surface his brow was still pressed against.<br>That was yet _another_ thing he didn't get. _Why hadn't they adopted him? _He supposed it was because they didn't want to have to deal with him longer then they needed to... They could bask in all the attention his presence would surely bring for as long as they wanted, and only put up with him until he turned eighteen. He was only seventeen by mere days, having a late August birthday. That left less than a year until they could kick him out on his ass.

The curly haired teen felt a sudden, unexpected pang in his chest as his mind supplied images of the immanent day.  
>Him, stood at the side of the road with nothing but his backpack and guitar once again. Having to live on the streets, busking for money so that he could afford to eat... Sleeping on park benches, shuffling to the shelter of trees when it rained. Finally having his throat cut as he slept in the open for his few possessions.<br>Blaine pushed himself away from the door and shook his head, rubbing his eyes with his fists. He knew he was being melodramatic, but he couldn't help it. People were so unpredictable, so blinded by their own values and wants that they would stop at nothing to achieve them. Wouldn't hesitate to do what they deemed necessary, consequences for others be damned. Even if the person stood in the way was their friend of years. Or even their own son.  
>Blaine had far too much experience when it came to ignorance and 'morals'.<br>He had lost count of the number people that had been close to him, only to turn their backs in preservation of their appearances and social standing.

Who _does_ that?  
>Apparently, everyone.<p>

Blaine let out a huffing breath and dropped his hands to survey his 'room'. It was simple, but held a homey feel that left Blaine crawling on the inside. He was done with homes.  
>The plain, sunshine yellow walls were supposedly meant to give the illusion of cheerfulness, but all Blaine could see was cruel irony. <em>Let's paint the walls of our inevitably damaged adopted child's bedroom sickeningly happy, so that we can remind them how miserable they are inside ALL of the time. <em>He knew he wasn't being fair, but honestly he couldn't care less. When had life ever been fair?

He crossed the room and pulled a pair of sweatpants from the dresser draws beneath the small window, discarding his jeans, hoodie and V-neck into the hamper by the desk after he swapped them for the sweats.  
>He allowed his hand to trail briefly over the scars down his left side as he made his way over to the bed. The still pink, slightly puckered lines started at his shoulder and criss-crossed down his tan skin. They became more and more spread out as they reached his forearm; the worst and most of them were at his shoulder and outer bicep.<p>

He supposed that's what _would_ happen if one were thrown through a glass table.

There were a few scars across his ribs on that side, but most of those were from the surgery. The same couldn't be said for the few on his hip and upper thigh and especially not the ones on his face, though.  
>Blaine considered wearing a tank to McKinley tomorrow. It was still warm enough outside, and hopefully people would leave him alone if they saw his scars. He decided he could deal with the staring if peace was the consequence.<br>Deciding to skip brushing tonight, as he really couldn't be bothered, he set his alarm and flopped into bed; pulling the pale sheets up his chest.

He knew tomorrow was going to be tough, but he was determined not to let it get to him. He wouldn't allow the same of the students, either.  
>They wouldn't know what hit them when Blaine Anderson walked through those doors in the morning. He was done being pushed around and taken advantage of.<p>

As he felt himself being lulled to sleep, he promised himself that no one at that school would ever meet the real Blaine. The real Blaine was obviously not right for this world, never mind Ohio. He doubted there'd be anyone _to_ meet him anyway. This _was_ Lima, for Christ's sake.

Oddly enough, before he was pulled under completely, the most beautiful flash of blue swirled with green stood out against his consciousness and rippled through his dreams that night; only to be forgotten by morning.

~o0o~

Kurt groaned and opened his eyes blearily as his hand flopped around in search of his alarm. The incessant beeping filled the room and grated on Kurt's every nerve before he finally managed to silence it with an ungraceful _thunk_.

Stretching his arms and sighing at the satisfying pop that awarded his actions, the stylish teen glanced at the time flashing beside his head.  
>6.30am.<br>_blech. The sacrifices I make for my skin._

Kurt heaved his body out of bed and made his way towards the bathroom, shuffling his feet as he went. Kurt Hummel was not a morning person. At least not until he had had some caffeine.  
>As he turned on the shower, Kurt began mentally prepping himself for the day.<br>Yesterday had been void of locker shoves and slushies, and few slurs were thrown his way, but Kurt put that down to Monday/start of the year blues. There was no doubt in his mind that today the Jocks would be laying it on thick. Especially as it was senior year. They wouldn't want to miss this opportunity to show who's 'boss' once and for all.  
>Kurt snorted, almost accidentally inhaling a stream of shower water as he did.<br>_Yeah, right. Like they could ever be the boss of me. We'll see whose boss when they're picking up empty popcorn buckets after my Broadway début.  
><em>Because if Kurt Hummel was sure of one thing, it was that one day, when he finally escaped Ohio for good, he would be a Broadway star. It was just a matter of making it through one final year of high school before he could leave for college in New York.  
>And maybe also pushing Rachel Berry down a flight of stairs, but he'd tackle that when he got to it.<p>

For now, Kurt was simply going to finish getting ready and head to school where he would keep his head down until Glee club this afternoon.

Oh, and maybe put 'Operation befriend Blaine Anderson' into place as he did. Kurt was confident that the likes of the Football team wouldn't dare mess with someone so well known, so his plan to wiggle into Blaine's life would hopefully be beneficial to the both of them. 'Hopefully' being the operative word.  
>Ignoring the feeling that accompanied his thoughts straying to those Hazel eyes, Kurt geared himself up to face McKinley high for another day.<p>

~o0o~

The weather seemed to be on Blaine's side as Will pulled into the parking lot of McKinley.  
>It was ridiculously hot for a day in early September, so the teen was able to follow his plans and wear a tight black tank to school. He had teamed it with his scruffiest jeans – a loose (but not too loose) blue denim pair of skinnies that had rips in the knees and hung low on his hips – his hot pink converse from the day before, and a pair of hot pink shades.<br>Even he wouldn't mess with him. The clothes along with his scars and piercings should ensure that no one would try to pick a fight today.

As the car shuddered to a halt, Emma turned to look at Blaine in the backseat from her spot in the front,  
>'Are you ok, B?' she asked. Once again, Blaine could see the sincerity in her eyes as she tactfully avoided using his name. Not that he was bothered. He honestly didn't have the energy to be sentimental or whatever about his identity – and was already mostly over what had happened in the choir room, so Blaine he was. He had learned the hard way that it doesn't do to dwell.<br>Blaine appraised her a moment before answering. Anyone would think that she genuinely cared, but Blaine knew better. It was just part of the act.  
>Instead of giving her the vocal answer he knew she wanted, something Blaine would usually instinctively do, the curly haired teen averted his gaze to look out the window and nodded shortly. There were a number of students in the lot, enjoying the sunshine with their friends by their cars before the school day began. He could see one of the girls from yesterday-Tina, he thought her name was- stood with the dark skinned girl from the choir room not far away. Both were shooting glances at the Schuesters' car, and Blaine sighed quietly. It was going to be a long day.<p>

Will opened his car door and got out, hoisting a heavy file into his arms before he made his way around to open Emma's door for her.  
>Blaine steeled himself with a deep breath before he, too, pushed his door open. He did not look up until he had shut the door and swung his backpack onto one of his shoulders, keeping a grip on the strap.<br>His gaze scanned the lot.  
>The two girls he had seen earlier were making their way over, both with timid but friendly smiles on their faces. A few other people nearby were glancing his way and whispering to their friends, but Blaine ignored them. His sunglasses were in place, so it was probably only the customary 'New Kid' whispers. Probably.<br>He felt Will's hand come down on his shoulder as the girls reached them, and fought the urge to shrug it off.

'Hey, kids,' he said to them, shooting them a strained smile. 'Thanks for your help. Emma and I really need to head to the staff briefing, so if you could give Blaine some company and maybe show him around, that would be great.'

Blaine frowned slightly as he heard this. Had they seriously assigned him babysitters for the day?

The girls both nodded, sending nervous smiles Blaine's way. He supposed it was because he didn't exactly look like a bucket full of sunshine, but didn't dwell on the fact and decided to just smile back.  
>They looked relieved by this, and he was glad. He didn't want to terrorize perfectly friendly people on his first day. Especially not two who seemed willing to help him out a bit even if it was unnecessary.<p>

'Sure thing, Mr Schue. We'll take it from here.' The bigger girl turned to him and stuck her hand out, her eyes quickly taking in his scars. 'I'm Mercedes. It's nice to meet you.' Her words were accompanied by a warm smile, and Blaine only briefly hesitated before he grasped her offered hand.  
>'Blaine.' He replied shortly, but gave a smile in return. It quickly morphed into a slight smirk as he saw the way her dark cheeks flushed. Maybe it would be easier to act the part than he had initially thought.<br>He kept her hand slightly longer than necessary, her blush darkening, before letting go and turning to the pretty Asian.

'And I'm Tina.' She smiled. Her voice was kind and sweet, and was completely at odds with her gothic looking summer dress.  
>Yet again, Blaine found himself being instantly drawn to someone.<br>_How were these people doing this? _There was something about the girl that he instantly liked. This was the second time that had happened since he'd left the children's home, and both times it had been a small, friendly woman. Blaine decided he wouldn't think about that, but realised he had missed the opening to introduce himself. Smooth.

Tina didn't seem bothered at all, though. Instead, she simply looped her arm through his – ignoring what must be his obvious surprise – and began to pull him towards the school's entrance.  
>Several heads turned as they passed through the thicker swarms of students, and Blaine started to feel uneasy. It had hit him that there was an obvious flaw in his 'stares but peace' plan. His scars seemed to be attracting a lot of attention, and people were starting to do more than purely look at him and then move on. Some were going so far as to completely stop and openly whisper to their friends, some even deliberately walking to a space where they could see him.<p>

Blaine felt his hands start to become clammy as they climbed the stairs into the school, Mercedes walking along on his other side. Being hidden away in that home for six months had sheltered Blaine more than he had realised. He had been deliberately placed with younger children because there was less chance they would know anything about him, and therefore would be unable to harass or torment him. While it had seemed like a pain at the time, being surrounded by kids no older than ten, Blaine now appreciated what a clever move that had been. Especially now he was faced with a building full of the exact age group that would know everything, and that would undoubtedly use it to their advantage.  
>Simply and eloquently put, he was scared shitless.<p>

Blaine had never had to deal with bullies, beside the obvious exception, but he realised as Tina dragged him through a sparsely populated hallway that he was going to have to learn.

And fast.

The loud, echoing slam of a body colliding hard with a set of metal lockers only served to prove him right.

~o0o~

There was absolutely no doubt what so ever in Kurt's mind that the universe was working against him in epic proportions.

It just didn't want him to have a good day.

It was _September_, for Hells sake. Why did he have to deal with the burden of wearing sun cream in September? Not only did it take time out of his morning – so that he was unable to run to the Lima Bean before school – but it also threatened the delicate balance of his skin. There was going to have to be a major exfoliating session tonight.  
>Then again, that really wasn't anything new. It actually happened rather regularly due to all the Slushies flying his way, but that didn't stop it being a pain in the ass.<p>

Needless to say, the fashionista was in quite a bad mood when he reached his locker with about ten minutes to spare before classes started.  
>However, when he glimpsed the photos plastered to the inside of his locker door his mood lifted slightly. There was everything from professional photos from his dad and Carols wedding, to goofy glee club photos and a picture of his biological mother. His eyes lingered on her for a moment as a feeling of slight guilt settled in his stomach. He really shouldn't be in a mood like he was. It took only one glimpse of his mothers face to remind him that he was lucky. That he had things some people could only dream of.<p>

Once again, as Kurt collected his books for AP English and Home economics, he found his thoughts drifting to Blaine. He absently wondered if he had arrived yet...

'KURT!'  
>The shout jolted the teen from his thoughts, and he scrambled not to drop his books in shock.<br>'Rachel! How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?' he admonished the bouncing girl, who had appeared suddenly out of nowhere.

'You had to tell me seven times yesterday.' She stated rather proudly, before one look at Kurt's unimpressed gaze wilted her smile slightly. 'That was a rhetorical question, wasn't it?'

Sometimes Kurt wondered if the girl actually existed in the same universe as the rest of them.

He chose not to answer, instead turning to shut his locker and adjusting the bag on his shoulder.  
>'Is there a reason you're co-inhabiting my bubble right now, Rachel?'<p>

And just like that, she was bouncing and grinning again in her knee high socks and dolly shoes.  
>'Yes! Have you seen him yet? Blaine, I mean. I can't wait to put our plan into action and have a proper conversation with him...hopefully he's seen the latest rendition of 'The Phantom Of The Opera', you know, the one that was on at the Royal Albert Hall not long ago-' she had clapped her hands together in typical Rachel Berry style before Kurt cut her off.<p>

'I highly doubt the Children's Home he was in offered much opportunity to watch the opera.' He stated dryly. As Rachel had been speaking, he had been worried that he had let his plan slip to her before he remembered that the whole Glee club had a similar one.

He was just opening his mouth to inform her that she might want to tone it down a little when she did see Blaine, when suddenly he was flying sideways and his books were spinning out across the hall. He heard the brutal BANG before he felt the impact, but when it hit it flared painfully up through his shoulder and into his head and neck. Unable to catch himself, he fell to the floor in a crumpled heap before the black spots faded from his vision.  
>He was vaguely aware that Rachel was shouting something, and that someone was beginning to crouch beside him, but he couldn't properly hear them over the ringing in his ears.<p>

'Kurt?'  
>It felt like it was coming from a million miles away; but as the pressure of someone's hand on his uninjured shoulder seemed to become more real, Kurt found himself snapping out of his daze slightly and looking into a pair of worried, chocolate brown eyes.<br>Rachel.  
>He shook his head slightly to clear it, but immediately regretted the action as what felt like white hot fire flamed along his right side.<br>_Fuck, that hurt _Kurt thought through gritted teeth. _  
><em>He began to struggle into a sitting position, Rachel shifting away from him slightly to give him more space as the shadows of three more people fell across him.

'Boo! What happened?'  
>'Kurt? Are you hurt? What's going on?'<p>

That was undoubtedly Mercedes and Tina, and Kurt felt his rising embarrassment at being on the floor, not quite able to get up, lessen slightly as he recognized his friends' voices.

That was, until, he felt a pair of warm, strong, unfamiliar hands slide gently under his arms and lift him carefully to his feet.  
>He was suddenly surrounded by the intoxicating smell of vanilla, and a fresh scent that reminded him of when he was eight, going out to pick up a Christmas tree with his mom and dad.<br>The hands remained braced either side of Kurt's chest as he struggled to collect himself, the heat of the other person stood so close to him and the comforting press of their calloused hands making it a little easier.  
>Slightly slumped as he was, Kurt found his eyes trailing up one of the muscular, tan arms attached to whoever was holding him up, following it down to where it met a bare, scarred shoulder.<p>

His breath hitched as he came to the realisation of who his saviour must be.

Slowly, Kurt lifted his gaze; glimpsing a flash of hot pink at the neck of a black tank top out of the corner of his eye.

A strong jaw line, more linear ghosts of injury, a pair of plump, soft looking lips, a straight nose, and Kurt found himself lost in pools of vivid hazel and green.  
>He thought he might have stopped breathing completely as those eyes bore into his own. The eyes he had found himself thinking about more than once since yesterday; the eyes now seemingly glowing with concern and genuine warmth.<p>

Long, thick black eyelashes gently brushed his cheeks as he blinked up slightly at Kurt.  
>Then warm, deliciously minty breath ghosted over Kurt's face as he was enveloped in the rich, quiet tone of Blaine Anderson's voice.<p>

'Are you alright?'

* * *

><p><strong>so what do we think? too crap? marginally shocking but acceptable? 0_o<br>URGH.**

**i wish my sock drawer was big enough to curl up in and sleep in for days.  
>Kj xx<br>**


	7. Chapter 5

**hi guys, it's me again! XD  
>i hope you haven't given up on this story completely, updates will be picking up after next week becasue I'LL HAVE FINISHED MY EXAMS!<br>at the mo, it's 7 down and 6 to go O.O cannot wait for them to be over...i actually have no idea why i'm updating now becasue i have four this week. oh well. beats revision. :)  
>so this chapter is a long one, and i have no idea if it makes any sense. if you could drop me a review at the end telling me what you think, i would appreciate it xxx<br>ON WITH THE STORY!  
>*i continue to disclaim*<br>**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter five<strong>

'Are you alright?'

As the whisper of Blaine's breath faded from the skin of his face, Kurt couldn't help but watch the way his lips parted and how he caught the bottom between his teeth; a seemingly absentminded show of concern. Moving his gaze back upwards, Kurt briefly registered the furrowed brow and lowered eyebrows before he once again connected with startling green and honey.  
>His eyes were so open, so deep and undulating with emotion that Kurt found himself unable to catch his breath and answer.<br>He was sure that this moment of breathlessness would only be the first of many. The apparent population of butterflies currently dancing in his stomach was only testament to that.  
>Kurt watched with fascination as a slow pink spread across his cheeks, staining the tan skin, before he registered the sudden closed off look in Blaine's face. It was as if someone had flicked a switch to turn off the care; reminiscent of someone smiling at a funeral before they remembered why they were there. This analogy was probably far too close to accurate for Kurt's liking. However, Blaine's blush remained, a lingering embarrassment trapped in the soft colour.<p>

It was when Blaine's warm hands rapidly retracted from their place on Kurt's ribcage that he realised the cause of Blaine's shift to unsettledness.  
>It was him. He had been stood gawking at the boy in front of him for what probably surpassed an appropriate amount of time, and still had yet to answer him.<br>The dread of making Blaine any more uncomfortable than he already was settled fast and heavy in Kurt. He quickly snapped out of whatever state he'd been in and rushed to answer him.

'Oh! YES! I mean, er, yeah, I'm fine.'  
>Very smooth. Blaine jumped at the explosive answer, but returned Kurt's weak smile with a small one of his own.<br>Any moment they'd been having shattered as Mercedes muffled a snort.  
>Both boys glanced to her in surprise. Her shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter.<br>Blaine watched in confusion as she turned her head and buried it in Tina's shoulder –who, incidentally, was also trying to hide a smile. He had obviously not seen the queen bitch look Kurt had shot her way after she had first laughed. Glancing back at Blaine, Kurt saw him open his mouth to say something but apparently think better of it and look to the floor instead.  
>His eyes were quickly hidden, but not before Kurt caught a flash of something in them. He couldn't place it though, and was still looking at Blaine with a thoughtful frown as Tina began to speak. She had obviously controlled her giggles, as her voice was steady and sure.<p>

'What happened, Kurt? We heard you hit the locker from the hallway around the corner.'  
>Blaine lifted his head slightly, his eyes peeking up at Kurt curiously from below his lashes. His extremely long, thick, dark eyelashes...<br>with that, Kurt realised he was staring again and quickly looked to Tina instead.

'I...er, I tripped?'  
>It came out as more of a question than an explanation and the fashionista desperately hoped they wouldn't notice. To his left, Rachel made a noise somewhere between an indignant squeak and a squawk, which he quickly silenced with a swift elbow. He cleared his throat, ignoring the lingering twinge in his neck, and fixed a bright, false smile on his face. 'Yeah, I just bought these boots recently and they're taking some getting used to.'<br>The girls were all too familiar with the extent of Kurt's wardrobe, and bought the lie easily. With the exception of Rachel. But he'd deal with that later. It helped that Tina always looked for the best in people, and wouldn't dream that he would lie to her, and that Mercedes was quite obviously mooning over Blaine and not paying much attention to anything else.  
>But the Anderson prodigy had eyes only for Kurt, and was currently examining the boy with a scepticism that made Kurt nervous. The senior felt like that searching gaze was stripping away every defensive layer he had ever put up, one by one, and was determined to expose what lived beneath.<p>

The boy may be gorgeous, but Kurt was not having that.

An awkward silence had descended upon the group, and Kurt didn't hesitate to break it as he rushed to pick up his scattered books. He gave a false laugh as he did so, and made a feeble attempt to lighten the atmosphere;  
>'I suppose living with Finn is rubbing off on me. He fell up the stairs this morning. <em>Again<em>.'  
>Mercedes, apparently returning to planet Earth, chuckled and bent to help him.<br>'Damn, that boy! I'm surprised the stairs survived!'  
>Kurt gave a weak smile, accepting the books she passed him, and struggled into a standing position with his arms full,<br>'I didn't say they did.' He joked, and Mercedes laughed again giving him a friendly pat on the (thankfully uninjured) arm.

As she did so, she must have caught a glimpse of the watch on her wrist.  
>'Oh!' she exclaimed, 'we're going to be late! Blaine, we were supposed to pick up your schedule.'<br>Kurt looked to his own watch and frowned; lesson began in less than five minutes.  
>'How are you going to do that and make it to lesson on time? Don't you have Fredericks first?' he asked, just as the first bell rang.<br>Both Mercedes and Tina groaned.  
>They shared their first lesson, and Mr Fredericks was the most anally punctual teacher in the entire school. You were just asking for a detention if you showed up late.<p>

'He's right,' Tina sighed. She turned to Blaine, placing a gentle hand on his arm and ignoring when he started, 'do you think you could make your own way to the office, and then lesson? Mr Figgins' office is right down the hall.' She sounded apologetic, and perhaps a little bit worried. Rachel had already flounced off in a huff for who knew what reason, and she and Mercedes really could not afford to be late.  
>Kurt watched as Blaine looked at her searchingly for a minute, obviously trying to satisfy himself that she was being genuine. In just spending a few minutes around the boy, Kurt realised he did that a lot.<br>Blaine glanced quickly in the direction she had indicated, and spotted the glass walling of the main office; quite studiously ignoring the many glances being shot his way by passing students. He smiled to Tina and nodded, and the relief was quite evident on her face.

'Thank you so much! We owe you one.' She gave him a playful wink, then grabbed Mercedes and started dragging her in the opposite direction, walking backwards, 'we'll catch back up with you later, okay? Have a brill day until then!' her and her companion gave a brief wave each before turning and hurrying off down the hall.  
>Blaine watched them go with something akin to amusement, and then looked back up at Kurt who obviously hadn't moved.<p>

'I'll..._ahem_, I'll see you later!' the taller teen chirped a little _too_ brightly, before he too whirled around and sped off in what he would later realise was the wrong direction.  
>As first impressions go, Kurt was at least certain that his was memorable. Whether or not it was for the right reasons remained debateable.<p>

~o0o~

Blaine watched the skinny jean clad boy speed off with interest, ignoring the students occasionally knocking into his sides as they bustled past.  
>That had to be one of the strangest encounters of his life so far.<br>And that was saying something. The day he met Wes and David had to be taken into account, after all. A small smile slipped passed his lips as he remembered, the bubbly feeling he associated with his best friends slowly building in his chest.  
>But then they popped as suddenly as they had appeared, leaving him with a frown and a hollow feeling that seemed to follow him everywhere.<br>_Former best friends, _he reminded himself. _It doesn't do to dwell._ He had to remember that if he wanted any chance of, well, not moving _on_, necessarily, but at least moving forward. No matter how small the steps.

With that in mind, Blaine turned and began to weave his way through the dwindling students towards the shiny panelling of what he assumed was the main office. But he couldn't shake the odd feeling he had had since his encounter with that boy, the one who looked like an ang-  
>The one who had 'tripped' over his own boots.<br>Blaine barely suppressed a snort of his own. _Yeah, sure he 'tripped'. Even though I know for a fact that McQueen footwear practically comes broken in..._ no, wait. He didn't know that. He didn't have any reason to know that.

Jesus Christ. If he kept up like this, he would be bi-polar by the weekend.  
>But the point still remained that...<em>Kurt<em> left him with an odd feeling. A feeling that he didn't like at all. In the few seconds that Blaine had locked eyes with the teen - definitely not noticing that his eyes were a capturing mix of green and blue, or that his skin was as pale as porcelain – he had just maybe, only the littlest bit, started to care. And that could not happen. Caring ended in disaster, heartbreak, and copious amounts of physical pain.  
>Sort of like the pain someone would feel after getting locker-checked by a hulking jock.<br>If Blaine was anything except pathetic, he was not naive. Kurt was hiding the truth; and Blaine was an expert when it came to lies. He had been fed them since he was a child, and it would take more than natural means to conceal something from him.  
>That particular skill was both a blessing and a curse. It destroyed his life more than it helped it, as past experience only demonstrated, but now was one of those rare moments when it came in useful.<br>He was not determined to expose what Kurt was hiding. Why should he be? It wasn't his problem. But he was going to keep an eye out, and learn from what Kurt was obviously doing wrong.  
>In Blaine's opinion, that was vital to surviving public high school.<br>He reached the transparent door of the reception with the resolution that he _would_ survive. He had to. He had lived on the other side of the spectrum, and now that he resided in the middle he was determined not slip back - Only forward. It was forward or nothing. He would not worry that that particular mindset held echoes of another; especially as that 'other' had thrown him around like a rag doll.  
>It was time to take charge.<br>Blaine pushed the door to the office open - and promptly froze as he looked through the glass wall to the headmaster's study.

_Oh, for fucks sake._

Or it would be, if those Schuester's would stop popping up everywhere. How the hell was he supposed to take the proverbial reins if they were around every corner?

He rolled his eyes and gave an annoyed huff as he pushed the door closed, with perhaps more force than necessary, and strode past the bumbling receptionist telling him to go through to where _they_ were waiting.  
>He spared a glace to Emma and Will as he walked in, before flopping into the spare seat and slouching down with his arms crossed, fixing the Indian man across from him with a stare.<br>He did not respond well to faculty, or _authority._ He doubted anyone who had been walked all over their entire life would.

The Middle aged principle, after satisfying himself staring for a good few seconds, coughed awkwardly and pretended to read off of a sheet of paper in front of him before settling his hands on top of it on the desk; in what he probably thought was an impressive pose but which looked to Blaine to be copied off bad interrogation dramas.

'Mr Anderson,' He began, with heavily accented English, 'You are late.'  
>Blaine just looked at him, clicking his tongue stud.<br>A few silent seconds passed before the man realised he was not going to get a response. Will shifted awkwardly and looked at the principal apologetically. The Asian raised his eyebrows and leaned back before speaking again.  
>'Tardiness is not tolerated at McKinley, Mr Anderson.' He said, making the effort to sound stern.<p>

It was Blaine's turn to raise his eyebrows, the Principles gaze flashing to the piercing there momentarily as he did so. Slowly and pointedly, Blaine turned his head and looked back out into the corridor still holding a few straggling students, meandering to lesson and obviously in no hurry to get there.  
>The adults gaze followed his, and Blaine saw Emma raise her hand to hide her smile while Will continued to look sombre.<br>The teen looked back to the principle, who looked nothing short of dumbfounded. Blaine smirked.  
>This place definitely was not Dalton. If he had behaved like this at Dalton in the presence of senior authority, he would have found himself locked in detention so fast he'd have whiplash.<p>

Mr Figgins cleared his throat again and shifted in his seat. He seemed to realise there was no point trying to enforce his superiority and so decided to get down to business so this could end quickly. Blaine noticed not without satisfaction that he seemed to make the man uncomfortable. It probably helped that he kept the same stare fixed on the principle throughout the 'briefing', as the man could not meet his gaze for longer than a second.

'So, Mr Anderson, I see you come from Dalton with an impressive grade point average, a number of credits in recreational and after school activities, and many compliments from senior staff. Due to the nature of your...er..._situation_, it would normally be necessary for you to re-sit the final term or two of sophomore year that you...missed out on.'  
>Blaine stiffened. Not a chance in hell.<br>Mr Figgins seemed to pick up on this, aided by the daggers now shooting his way, and rushed to continue.  
>'<em>However<em>, due to the advanced academics at Dalton, this is not necessary. In fact, you find yourself able to comfortably enter junior year in a number of AP classes.' He glanced down at the paper in front him again, and looked surprised a moment. 'Actually, you are in all AP classes...meaning you'll have lessons with the seniors and a select few juniors of McKinley.'  
>Blaine frowned. That didn't make any sense. Did they not have junior AP classes?<p>

It was Mr Schuester, sensing his confusion, that explained this time.  
>'The learning at McKinley is different, Blaine. AP junior classes are the regular senior classes, and if you're the same during senior year, you'll be in the senior AP classes. I know it's confusing, but hardly any juniors need the AP classes so this system works better than building two timetables for every year. We would just put you in senior year, but then you would miss out on the learning of AP senior courses.'<p>

This school was ridiculous.

Mr Figgins slid the schedule he had been looking at over to Blaine, who learned forward and studied the paper. His eyes widened as he noticed he had been scheduled in for counselling twice a week.  
>He couldn't help himself.<p>

'COUNSELLING! What the fu-er, _hell_ do I need counselling for!' damn. He had been on a role with the frosty silences.

Everyone in the room jumped at his outburst, and Will and Mr Figgins looked at him in astonishment. Blaine would give Emma Schuester credit where she deserved. She handled situations rather well.  
>Emma remained cool and answered Blaine as if his speaking was nothing out of the ordinary.<p>

'We just thought you may need to let off some steam during the week, sweetie. Don't think of it as counselling...just...friendly conversation between yourself and yours truly.' She smiled, painfully sincere, 'But if there is anything you ever need to talk about, my door is always open.' She finished by patting him lightly on the knee. It was a testament to Blaine's lingering confusion that he didn't jerk away.  
>'Yourself and yours truly'...? What?<br>Blaine's mouth dropped open slightly as he remembered that Emma was the counsellor. He was smart, but he was also painfully oblivious sometimes. A quality he resented and that put him on edge.  
>Great. He was living with a fucking therapist. Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, he had to get taken in by people qualified to pick his brains.<p>

He just could not get a break.

Blaine looked at Emma a moment longer before huffing and sliding back down in his seat, arms once again folded.  
>But Emma wasn't fazed, and actually grinned quite broadly. Blaine was obviously still fuming, but this was the most animated she had ever seen him.<br>There was a teen aged boy hidden away in there somewhere.

It was Mr Figgins that recovered first; Will's jaw still opening and closing in disbelief. This kid was an anomaly.

'Uh, right. Well. There was something else we wished to discuss with you before we allow you to get to lesson. William?' He looked at Will pointedly to take up the conversation. Blaine's sulky gaze remained fixed on his scruffy shoes, so he missed the anxious, pointed look exchanged between Mr and Mrs Schuester.

'Blaine.' Will began seriously, leaning forward and gaining the teens curiosity. 'We were wondering if you'd like to maybe take the name Schuester while you're at school.'  
>Blaine blanched and looked at him in disbelief. Was he kidding? He had to be kidding.<br>'We thought it might make...you know, _blending in_ a little easier. You might get less...attention if you're not Blaine Anderson and just look a bit like him.' He gave a nervous chuckle and then fell silent, awkwardly rubbing his hands together.

Blaine fixed the teacher with an intense, calculating gaze.  
>He seemed to be genuinely concerned.<br>Blaine didn't buy it.  
>The cogs in his brain were seriously whirring now.<br>It seemed like a good idea. Like a really _really_ good idea. He could actually be something other than Blaine Anderson, even if it was Blaine Schuester. People might think he looked like the Anderson boy, but there was no doubt the name change would throw them off. At least for a little while. He would be free to be normal for a while, and he worried slightly over the feeling of euphoria that gave him. But that was the thing. _For a little while. _Blaine _wasn't naive._ He knew that delaying the inevitable would only make the explosion that more catastrophic when someone got nosey. It wouldn't last. He would be exposed, by the end of the week, probably, and people would have a field day about the boy who seriously thought he could hide. He would look like such a coward.  
>Will leant back as he saw the fury fill those bright eyes. They were absolutely storming with anger and indignation.<br>Emma saw it too, and watched the boy carefully as he battled internally with himself. Or she thought he was fighting with himself.  
><em>I am not a coward.<em> Blaine thought. No matter how many times he had it screamed at him, snarled at him, _spat_ at him as a foot connected with his side over and over again, Blaine would not allow it to be true. He was fed up of being condescendingly treated like the cowardly lion when he wasn't being treated like the poor, fragile little boy everyone seemed to believe his was. It ended now. He would walk out of that office with his head held high, a 'take no prisoners' mentality, and a fucking _stinking_ attitude. He would walk out of there as Blaine Anderson, nothing else.

Blaine saw the schedule still lying near him on the desk, the student name left blank. He sat up, dug a pen out of his pocket, and blaringly wrote BLAINE ANDERSON across the dotted line. When he was done, he met Mr Schuester's surprised gaze defiantly.

'I am not afraid of closed minded teenagers, _sir_.'

Mr Schue's mouth dropped open in astonishment, and remained practically on the floor as Blaine picked up his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and moved toward the door; schedule in hand.  
>He paused there briefly, looking at Emma. She stared back a moment before she realised he was silently asking permission to leave. It shouldn't have made her smile, but it did.<p>

'You can go to lesson, Blaine.' She said, doing nothing to hide her smile.  
>He looked at her a moment, searching again for something, before he nodded and left.<br>They watched as he walked out into the red and yellow hallway, paused a moment to glance at his schedule and around him to get his bearings, before he headed off with a purposeful stride.

Left behind in his wake, there was a silence in the office.

'Well, William. You seem to have your hands full with that one.' Mr Figgins' observation caused Will to slump forward and rub his forehead wearily.

'I know. He's completely unpredictable.'

'He's magnificent.' The men in the room looked at Emma in surprise, only to see she was still looking out into the corridor with a nothing short of radiant smile on her face.  
>Radiance, with perhaps just a hint of pride, seemed to exude from her every pore.<p>

~o0o~

The repetitive tapping motion of Kurt's pen against his text book did nothing to relieve his frustrations. He wasn't frustrated at English, even if it was the AP class, but at himself.  
>He had royally screwed up any potential foundation he might have had in building a friendship with Blaine. He had not only made a fool of himself, by appearing to the boy as a crumpled heap on the floor, but he had also blatantly lied to his face.<br>Because Kurt could tell that Blaine knew he was lying. He could see it in the searching way he watched him right up until the bell went; as if he were looking for the truth and wasn't finding it. Kurt knew that a vital part in a relationship with Blaine was trust. It was the same for all of them. He did not have a healthy relationship with Rachel because he never knew when she was looking to sabotage him. He had a fantastic relationship with Mercedes and Tina because he could trust them with the biggest of secrets...

That brought him up short, and silenced the incessant tapping of his stationary.

If that were true, and he could trust them with anything, then why did he lie to them this morning? Why didn't he tell them that Azimio had made like a wrecking ball and sent him sprawling?  
>He didn't know. He honestly couldn't say. Was it pride? Maybe he was too ashamed...he was supposed to be the strong gay kid that pulled through everything thrown at him – he was sure that was who he was seen as in Glee club. The stylish 'take no messing' effeminate guy that would as soon as claw you with his nails as manicure them.<br>Maybe that was why Blaine had seen through it...he didn't know Kurt like the others did. He didn't know how strong he was, how unusual it was for him to let something get to him.  
>Not knowing that side of Kurt probably exposed the other to Blaine. The side that was scared of the bruises, the slushies. The side that was fed up, and just wanted to curl up and cry about the bullying everyday in his bed.<br>Kurt resented that side of himself. He also found himself resenting Blaine just that little bit. Blaine Anderson, who was so strong that he could roll up to school with his scars on display and not care what people thought of him. Who wasn't afraid to look at the 'fairy' for extended periods of time lest he be called _gay_.  
>Kurt was so caught up in his seemingly justified bitching that he almost missed something. Something vitally important.<br>It was that flash in Blaine's eyes. The flash that Kurt had seen when Mercedes and Tina were laughing at him for blatantly checking out the other boy. Blaine wouldn't have thought the girls were laughing at Kurt...he thought they were laughing at _him_. That was why he had stopped himself speaking and looked at the floor instead! Holy crap. Blaine Anderson was as insecure as he was. All those searching looks and long pauses...they weren't to intimidate, or for mysterious effect. Blaine was looking for answers. For how to respond, _what to do_. Blaine didn't have a clue what he was doing. He was taking his cues from those around him.  
>Maybe that was why he was so quiet.<br>He genuinely didn't know what to say.

Kurt had also realised that genuineness was also incredibly important to Blaine. The boy was always looking to see whether or not people were having him on, or actually meant what they said.  
>Any resentment Kurt may have felt toward the boy quickly evaporated.<br>The poor guy. His trust in people had been so royally screwed up that it was almost impossible for him to see the natural goodness in them, the kindness. He was always searching for an ulterior motive.  
>Kurt shuddered to think what Blaine had experienced in order to become the way he was. It was more than just being beaten up. Kurt knew it took a lot more than that to shatter someone's faith in humanity. He knew, because he had been there. No matter how many locker shoves he endured, however many times he was tripped and pushed, he had never completely questioned that faith. He had doubted it, but his friends in Glee club were able to make it come back tenfold every time.<br>Kurt wondered if Blaine had ever had anyone in his life to do the same for him.  
>Judging on what Kurt had seen, it was unlikely.<br>But that was about to change.  
>Kurt hadn't screwed up as much as he had initially thought. There was still something to go off...<br>the teen didn't necessarily have to get Blaine to trust him – even if that was preferable – he just had to get him to have faith in the fact that Kurt was being genuine.  
>That Kurt genuinely wanted to be his friend, and that there was no bigger intention behind his actions.<br>To Kurt, having the bullies leave him alone by hanging out with Blaine was no longer the ulterior motive.  
>It was simply a handy perk.<p>

Sat there in English, thankfully void of Neanderthal jocks, Kurt vowed to himself that he would renew Blaine Andersons faith in humanity.  
>He knew it would be far from easy, and most definitely not simple, but it had to be possible.<br>Didn't it?

And that just made Kurt start to fret and worry all over again - the tapping pen coming back with a vengeance.

~o0o~

'whew, ok, you can do this. You can walk straight in there, nose up, and not fall on your face. You've walked into rooms before, you know it's easy. Just left right left right left right...'

Blaine jumped up and down on the spot slightly, shaking out his hands and rolling his neck; sort of like a fighter would before entering the ring.  
>He had to say, his little pep talks to himself weren't exactly effective. He'd have to work on that at some point.<br>The nervous butterflies in his belly were insistent, and he felt like he might be sick. He was terrified. He was terrified of making a fool of himself walking into that classroom, and petrified of all the looks that would be directed at him.  
>Pride was a bitch.<br>Why oh _why _couldn't he be the cowardly lion, just this once? It would make everything so much simpler...  
>He sighed and slumped back against the wall, his backpack squashing awkwardly against his side.<br>He didn't believe that. He knew he could never walk in there with his tail between his legs. It was all or nothing.

Taking a deep breath, Blaine stood back up and made sure his clothes were in order. He lifted a hand to check his hair then skimmed his fingers across the scars on his face. He wished he had brought a hoodie – even if it was a million degrees. At least then he could hide behind something without being obvious about it.  
>But it was too late now.<p>

He checked his schedule, making sure he had the right classroom. It said he had English, with an 'M.F'. He had no idea who M.F was.  
>Glancing at the clock on the opposite wall, he saw he was about 25 minutes late for lesson.<br>Fabulous.  
>Just, brilliant.<br>Was there anything else the universe wanted to throw at him today? Another overly gossipy girl, maybe, who recognised him in an instant? A bus, perhaps? Either would cause equal damage.

_Ah fuck it, _he thought, and grasped the door handle before he could change his mind. _Let's do this_.  
>At the last second before opening the door, Blaine's other hand slipped into his jean pocket and grasped the cool locket there firmly. His thumb traced over the engraving carefully, and he more remembered the words carved there than felt them;<p>

_**A**__**nimi**__**  
><strong>__**est**__**  
><strong>__**P**__**otentia**_

And suddenly, Blaine had the strength to open the door.

* * *

><p><strong>so...what did we think? let me know!<br>OH and i had the engraving on the locket in a really pretty curvy script, but fanfic says NO to that, apparently. so maybe just visualise if you want to :)  
>this note is getting long, but i really just wanted to say thank you to anyone who's still reading, and who hasn't given up on me yet 3 it means so much to me, trust me :') xxxxxxxxxx LOVE YOU ALL! (in a non-creepy, platonic way of course :P) x<br>REVIEW! :D  
><strong>


	8. pain in the ass authors note sorry!

hi guys! you're probably all thinking 'is she seriously doing this? after all this time?' and i know! i'm so sorry! i hate these things with a passion, but i've already been so rude with the huge delay that i wanted to explain.

GCSE'S. unavoidable, pain in the ass. especially when you're doing twelve and an AS level. (this probably means nothing to my American readers, but in short its a crap load of exams and work). but they're over now! yay! i got the results i wanted, and hopefully i'm headed to Cambridge after college depending on how my A levels go :)  
>i thought when my exams finished i'd have time to write, but i was sooooo wrong. i was a part of the National Citizenship Service, meaning i was away 5 weeks out of 6 doing volunteer work, fundraisers, and charity events. the week i was home i was volunteering at a holiday school thing for underprivileged kids. which can move fast, by the way 0.0 i haven't stopped all summer, and because i don't have a written plan or outline for this story, i find myself completely at a loss as to what to write when i find the odd hour here and there to do something. my own fault, i know :(<p>

but here's where you guys come in! either through review or pm, send me any ideas you have for this story! prompts for things that you would like to happen, a story line you would like included etc. i am at your whimsy! :P your fabulous ideas might be the spark i need to get going again :)  
>i am not abandoning this story, because its holding my other story ideas hostage. i have a pile of other fics i want to write, but i won't let myself start until this is finished. its not fair to you guys, because you're all such wonderful people who i don't deserve to have read my ramblings.<br>again, i'm sorry about the lack of updates :( but i start college tomorrow, and i know i'll need a creative outlet to keep me going and its going to be this fic. so send me your ideas and lets get started! XD i will give credit where its due if i use your idea :)

you're all fabulous, i'm an idiot, and i'm writing this note to you on my Birthday because i love and appreciate you all so much. this fic has had nearly 7,000 views, which is more than i ever hoped for. :')

hopefully i'll hear from you soon, and whack out a chapter before anyone comes at me with a pitchfork :) it been know to happen. o.O

Kj xxxxx


	9. Chapter 6

**so this chapter is short, utter crap, and probably falls just short of a 'filler' chapter if i had to categorize it. but i can't, really...its that awkward chapter that is so bad it really can't be called a chapter.  
>but i had to give you guys something O.O<br>please read the AN at the end if you make it that far :S**

***still disclaiming*...can i disclaim this chapter?**

* * *

><p><strong><span>YPD – chapter six<span>.**

Blaine knew he was screwed as soon as the cheap looking wooden door swung open to omit him to the classroom. He knew, because the first thing he saw when he stepped into the room was an angry looking old man, who seemed about ready to strike him down with the hand of God and the fury of a thousand suns.

So it was understandable, really, why Blaine did not make the best of impressions on his new English teacher.  
>Doing his best to ignore the nasty look the man was giving him, Blaine headed toward the teachers desk with a confidence he really didn't have. Keeping one hand on his locket, Blaine reached into his other pocket and extracted the crumpled slip he'd picked up along with his schedule from the headmasters desk. He handed it to the man and waited.<p>

His heart was absolutely not pounding. Nope. Not at all.

_Holy shit,_ Blaine thought as the man's hostile, beady eyes connected again with his own. _It totally was. _

The teen shifted on his feet slightly as the elder got up slowly from his chair and walked around the table, stopping uncomfortably close to Blaine. He was so close that Blaine could see the purpling veins in his nose, and the grotty looking hair that tufted from his ears and nostrils.

Ew.

Even though repulsed by the mans overpowering smell of fish and overall appearance, Blaine held his ground and stared right back at the adult scrutinizing him in a less than pleasant way.

'You're late.'

Blaine tried his hardest not to recoil at the smell of the man's breath, but he couldn't help it. It was vile.  
>Keeping his face as impassive as possible, Blaine gave him a short nod, desperately resisting the temptation to wrinkle his nose.<p>

'And why, boy, are you late for _my_ lesson?' he sneered, leaning ever closer to the uncomfortable teen.  
>Deliberately holding his ground, Blaine raised an eyebrow before looking pointedly at the slip of paper still clutched in the man's hand. He didn't intend for it to come across as rude, or cocky.<br>Honestly.  
>But apparently, it did, as the teacher sucked in a sharp breath and narrowed his eyes, his chest puffing out slightly.<p>

_Here we go…_

'What's your name.' he barked. It didn't even sound like a question, more like an order. Blaine found himself not liking this guy at all. What was his _problem_? He was late, so what! He had handed over the slip from Figgins, for gods sake! This school was seriously starting to piss him off.

Some of his annoyance must have shown on his face as he answered, because his teacher's eyes flashed dangerously.

'Blaine.' The answer was short and succinct, and Blaine really couldn't care less that his tone was perhaps colder than it should have been. He kept a glare of his own fixed on the teacher as the man looked him up and down, causing Blaine's skin to crawl. There was a brief flash of understanding, or recognition, across the adults face as he studied Blaine's carefully again; his lips curling up into a sneer and his eyes glinting darkly.  
>There was a silence as the two faced each other, and Blaine suddenly became aware of the many pairs of eyes watching the exchange from the rows of desks off to his side.<p>

He wanted desperately to just go and sit in the back somewhere, out of sight and out of mind, but this Gollum of a man was making that harder than it should have been.

Finally, _finally_, he leaned back with a grunt and said 'Take the seat next to Abrahms. It's a small space, but I'm sure you'll fit just fine.' With one last condescending smirk, the man turned his back on Blaine and returned to his desk. Was he seriously cracking height jokes? He couldn't be much taller than Blaine himself! Looking closer now, Blaine could see a name plate on the desks surface: M. FREDERICKS. Fredericks. The same guy the girls were talking about earlier? Sure enough, when Blaine quickly surveyed the rest of the students in the room, there they were; sat at a desk behind a nerdy looking boy in a sweater vest and glasses, near the middle of the room.  
>It took just a few seconds of surveying the room for Blaine to realise that every eye was on him. And a second longer for him to realise he had absolutely no clue who 'Abrahms' was.<br>_Bollocks._

Blaine bit his lip and tried to ignore the way a good portion of the student body was gaping at him and his less-than orthodox appearance, pretending not to notice the most definitely _not _PG-13 looks being shot his way by a cluster of cheerleaders near the back of the room.

Luckily, Blaine caught sight of Mercedes waving at him from the corner of his eye and saw her gesturing to the empty space in front of her - next to specks. So specks was Abrahms? Deciding he couldn't care less, as long as he could escape to anywhere that wasn't the front of the room, Blaine hurried to the desk and dropped his bag beside it.  
>He was about to pull out his chair when he realised what Fredericks had meant by 'small space'. There was no chair there to pull out, Abrahms was in a wheelchair, and said wheelchair took up more than half the space behind the desk.<p>

It was moments like these that made Blaine wonder why the world worked against him so much.

The teen glanced up at the disabled boy and saw he had a small, apologetic smile on his face. Blaine sighed quietly. It wasn't fair to blame the other boy. He couldn't help it, even if he tried…..Fredericks, on the other hand….

Glancing at the teacher and finding him watching with a smug smirk, Blaine rolled his eyes and turned back to the rest of the room.  
>Which was still watching him.<br>Oh, come _on_!  
>Give a guy a break.<p>

It took a quick sweep of the room to locate a spare chair in the front, sandwiched by a cheerleader and the wall. Blaine resisted the urge to run to it, and made his way over in what he hoped was a casual way. He stopped beside the cheerleader and looked at her then the chair pointedly – hoping she would get the message and just hand it over so this entire ordeal could end. But of course it wouldn't be that easy. It never was.  
>The blonde girl smirked at him and said 'Help yourself, hot stuff.' In a simper, before settling back in her chair looking like she had absolutely no intention of moving.<br>Blaine stared at her a moment before he huffed in irritation.  
>Screw it.<br>Trying his hardest to ignore the overbearing girl, Blaine leaned right across her and reached for the chair. The action caused his thigh to press right up against her side, and his groin was in what he considered a dangerous proximity to her face.  
>She giggled quietly as Blaine picked up the chair – although he almost dropped it right on her overly-made up head when she placed a hand against his stomach and felt him through his tank top. He caught a gasp and pulled back quickly, in time to hear her say 'Mmmmm, Not bad, sexy.' And see her wink at him. It was pretty creepy. But Blaine remembered who he was trying to be, so he resisted the urge to run away screaming and smirked at her, dropping her a wink of his own that he hopped looked confident and 'sexy', before turning and making his way back across the room with his seat in hand.<br>He threw it down at his desk with more force than necessary before dropping into it heavily, not bothering to care that he was forced to sit with a table leg between his own.  
>He put his earbuds in his ears before he slumped back, doing his very best to pretend that there was no one else in the room. As the familiarly soothing music filled his thoughts, Blaine glanced one last time at his new teacher. The man had a slightly purple look to his skin, and the teen had the distinct impression that he was positively bursting to make a fuss. But he must have seen something in Blaine's face that stopped him, as after a moment he returned to the papers he was marking. Blaine breathed a quiet sigh of relief before he tipped his head back and closed his eyes, arms folded loosely across his front. He vaguely heard the rustle of paper and the renewed scratching of pens around him as his classmates resumed their work, before he lost himself in the music as he had done so many times before.<p>

It was his safe place, and Blaine would be lying if he said he wasn't in desperate need of it at that moment.

* * *

><p><strong>i really am sorry about how atrocious this (^^^^) is :(<strong>

**so this is in regards to the AN chap thing i posted not long ago...i know that people saw it and read it, and i'm telling you, i'm completely serious about needing help. i have a vague idea of where i want this to go, but i need ideas/suggestions to pad it out with until i can get my crap together. seriously. the smallest contribution would be a HUGE help, and would make this story so much better for you all xxx please leave a review or send me a PM with your ideas :)  
>thanks guys, and sorry again 3 it breaks my heart that i keep disapointing wonderful people x<br>Kj x**


	10. Chapter 7

**so this chapter sucks. again. sorry O.O  
>i just can't get back into the flow of writing properly...i've been doing crazy analytic essays for too long :( i'm afraid that kind of shows through, and i'm definitely not happy with this chapter, but i thought maybe if i just push through i'll get back into the swing of things...hopefully.<br>welp. i don't know if anyone is even reading this anymore, but here you go, have an awful update XD**

***insert disclaimer here***

* * *

><p><strong>YPD – chapter 7<strong>

There were already significant flaws in Kurt's supposedly brilliant plan; the first of which being he intended to reassure a guy of human decency whilst being repeatedly thrown at metallic surfaces, and receiving every derogatory name under the sun for daring to be who he was.

It was fair to say that this was more than a teensy problem.

Kurt had also quickly realised that Blaine Anderson was a fucking _ghost_.  
>It was impossible to locate him in the corridors between lessons, and he had yet to show up in one of Kurt's classes. Whether it was because he wanted to be invisible, or was just adorably tiny, Kurt didn't know.<p>

He did know it was a problem.

And he would be super pissed if one of the other glee kids had managed to get to him first.  
>so as Kurt hurried down the corridor towards the cafeteria at the beginning of lunch, he was conflicted as to whether he should be legging it to safety with his head down (lest a jock spot him), walking on his tippy toes in an attempt to find Blaine, or storming off to the auditorium to berate Rachel for ruining everything.<br>He wasn't sure how she would have ruined it, but knowing her it was a safe bet she had.  
>The turmoil going on inside Kurt's brain, therefore, was why the teen was completely caught off guard when the epicentre of his problem was suddenly in front him, struggling immensely to open a locker on the top row.<br>Kurt definitely didn't notice how painfully cute it was that Blaine had to crane his head back in order to see the dial, and how he also had to stand on his toes to reach.  
>And he <em>certainly<em> didn't spend a moment admiring the taught, tan sliver of skin between the elastic of the boy's boxers and the hem of his tank top as he stretched. And if Kurt happened find himself temporarily distracted with thoughts of exactly _where _that deliciously dark trail of hair, cutting across said skin, went, well, who could blame him? He was, after all, just a lowly teenager.

Ahem.

Having honestly not anticipated finding Blaine, Kurt didn't have a clue what to do. He was sure his inability to move and look away was a consequence of his lack of foresight, and not the funny fluttering feeling in his stomach.  
>However, Kurt quickly spotted a window for action when he stopped drooling down his chin and registered the look of frustration marring Blaine's brow, and his lack of success in getting his locker open. <em>Awww<em>.  
>Before he could over think what he was about to do too much, Kurt plastered a bright smile on his face and approached Blaine with a spring in his step.<br>Without giving the hazel eyed enigma time to protest, Kurt gently nudged him aside with his hip and took the slip of paper with his combination on from his surprised hand. He opened the locker quickly, then turned back to the rather stunned looking boy and pushed the open dial and paper back into his hands – trying not to shiver at the contact of his warm skin.  
>Blaine blinked at him, gave him a small, timid smile, then whispered 'Thank you' as his beautiful eyes met Kurt's. After a moment, however, he suddenly blushed and looked to the floor; Kurt marvelling at the pretty pink colour high on his cheeks. The fashionista tried to remember to breath when Blaine peeked back up at him through his lashes (his ridiculously long, thick lashes) and offered him a smile, a quick wink, and a 'You're welcome' before he turned and hurried away, deliberately not thinking about the fact that he just fucking <em>winked <em>at Blaine Anderson.  
>Where had that come from?<p>

After reaching the end of the corridor, Kurt took a moment to glance quickly back at the boy he suddenly felt a strange swell of affection for.  
>He was placing books from his bag into his locker, the endearing nature of the small, wondering little smile on his face at complete odds with the scars there.<br>Kurt quite suddenly had the idea that maybe Blaine's appearance and choice of attire had little to do with who he was on the inside – a concept that immediately stood out as strange to Kurt, as to him clothing had always been an area for self expression. However, he couldn't be sure. At least not yet.

Although he could be sure, as he continued to watch Blaine smile and blush to himself, that it was definitely 'human decency: 1', and 'shitty past experiences: 0'.

For some reason, that knowledge put an honest spring in his step and a whistle in the air as he proceeded to meet his friends for lunch.

~o0o~

Hot and heavy, the sun beat down on the bare shoulders of the boy sat alone against the courtyard wall, the bright light gleaming off shiny curly locks and pink sunglass frames.  
>Seemingly oblivious to the heat and the untouched bag of food beside him, the teen's attention appeared to be captured by something across the yard.<p>

Or someone.

Someone with perfect, glossy chestnut hair streaked with blond in the front, and skin as pale and beautiful as porcelain. Someone whose eyes twinkled a thousand colours when they smiled, and someone whose eyelashes fluttered – soft and downy – against their cheek when they winked.

Blaine didn't understand.

He didn't understand how a person could _be_ that way. How could they be so pure and beautiful, so _good_, in a place like this? A place where Jocks terrorised people, inflicting bruises with cold metal, where teachers just didn't care, and neither did the students? How was he so full of vibrancy and life when the hallways and class rooms were so oppressively dull?

Blaine was _fascinated_ by him. He was unlike anything he had ever encountered before.  
>Sure, Blaine had run into all kinds of 'life' in the past; it seemed like he had met every kind of person there was to meet at some point or other.<br>But he'd never met this kind. Not before today.  
>Not the kind that suffered in silence to protect their friends, and walked away with a bounce in their step. Not the kind that gave help to strangers without a second thought. And <em>definitely <em>not the kind that looked up to find an unknown teenager staring at them across a courtyard, and simply smiled and gave a little wave before looking away again.

He was perfect.  
>After looking for it his whole life, striving to <strong>be <strong>it for as long as he could remember, Blaine had found perfection.

Its name was Kurt.

And it was unreachable.

~o0o~

Completely lost in the light of the afternoon and the thoughts swirling around, unbidden, in his mind, Blaine was caught off guard when the bell for the final period of the day rang; the harsh sound making him jump and snap back to the here and now abruptly.  
>He watched hazily as throngs of students began to stream past towards the main building, and took no notice of curious gazes directed his way.<p>

Blaine sighed and clambered to his feet, throwing his uneaten food in a nearby trashcan before digging around in his pocket to retrieve his class schedule. A quick scan of the timetabled blocks showed him that he had advanced gym next, and should proceed to the locker room.  
>Wherever the fuck that was.<br>The teen unceremoniously stuffed the paper away before slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He squinted at the main building in hope that there might be a helpful sign lurking somewhere, but quickly realised that would be far too convenient.  
>Huffing in slight frustration, Blaine walked blindly back into the school, having no clue where he was going but resorting to the old theory that he'd 'get there eventually'.<p>

About five minutes later, Blaine stopped when he realised he was on the same corridor for the approximately the third time. If anyone asked, Blaine would deny growling and kicking the grungy looking corridor wall.  
>Because cool, collected people didn't do that. Ever.<br>In the midst of contemplating whether or not he should just give up and sit on the floor until someone found him, Blaine heard a door open around the corner and the rowdy sound of male teenage voices echo down the corridor. Not too long afterwards, he saw a boy dressed in a McKinley High gym uniform cross the corridor to the boys toilets.  
>How convenient.<p>

Heading in that direction and turning the corner, Blaine came across a set of nondescript double doors he had previously overlooked that just barely clung onto a plaque reading 'Male Changing Rooms'.  
>Rolling his eyes, the teen pushed through the door and tried not to choke on the thick, steamy air filled with what smelt like hundreds of aerosol sprays; added to by the underlying smell of teenage boys.<br>And not the sexy, musky one.  
>The gross one.<br>Blaine wrinkled his nose and quickly surveyed the room. Parallel lines of red gym lockers, separated by long benches that looked to have seen better days, stretched out before him, perpendicular to the door way he occupied still. Blaine assumed the showers were on the other side of the lockers, judging by the waist-high, white tiled wall he could see, and by the lingering residual steam rising towards the ceiling from previous classes. It was stifling; a commonality Blaine had found within McKinley high.

'Anderson?'  
>Blaine jumped as a heavy hand fell on his shoulder, and a tall shadow blocked out a portion of the fluorescent lights over head. Turning quickly, his body stiff and defensive, Blaine came face to face with a sweet-but-formidable looking woman wearing tube socks, sports shorts, and red lipstick.<br>He didn't know why, but he relaxed. Something about the woman was safe; secure.  
>Blaine didn't often feel safe.<br>Her broad, open face smiled kindly at him as she gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.  
>'I'm Coach Beiste,' she introduced softly 'you're hear for advanced gym, right?'<br>Blaine took his sunglasses off and craned his head back to look up at the woman with wide eyes, giving her a short nod in confirmation.  
>'Great!' she grinned, and Blaine noticed she had quite a delicate, slight southern accent. 'The senior class is in the row on the end, to your left.' She handed him a pile of clothes he hadn't noticed occupying her free hand; 'here's your uniform. It should fit about right – if it doesn't, let me know and we'll get it swapped for somethin' else toot-sweet.'<br>Blaine found himself liking this woman very much.  
>She gave his shoulder one last pat before nudging him gently in the direction she had indicated. 'Go on and get changed, now. We'll be out on the track today and the sun sure is blazin''<br>Giving the lady a small, shy smile Blaine made his way to the senior locker bank. He was aware that he was in fact a junior, but if gym ran like the other lessons then any other 'advanced' juniors would be in this class as well.

That didn't prevent Blaine from noticing, however, as he reached the row, just how big these guys were. They were enormous.  
>He shot a worried glance back towards the Coach, but she had moved on to berating a freshman with long, scraggly hair for not bringing a hair band.<br>He wondered if it was too late to suddenly forget how to play soccer or to start running a little bit slower….  
>But Blaine dismissed that train of thought as the boys –no, men – closest to him began to take notice of his presence at the end of the row. As soon as they took in his smaller build, mocking sneers began to curl their mouths and glints appeared in their eyes that could only mean 'fresh meat'.<br>Trying not to gulp, Blaine straightened and pushed his way through the obviously-jocks to a free locker closer to the far end, nearer the showers, with a falsely confident air that he hoped would deter the other guys for now.  
>As Blaine, ignoring curious glances once more, began to change quickly into his new uniform, he realised that he was going to become incredibly familiar with falsehood in the near future.<p>

That, perhaps, made him even more uncomfortable than the continued glances coming from his fellow students, and the whispers that joined the steam in the air as he quickly changed his shirt.

* * *

><p><strong>it kind of ends rather abruptly, but i think it's for the best in this case :P<strong>  
><strong>please review and leave your thoughts on the chapter, and any suggestions you may have: whether they be stylewriting wise, or plot wise, i'm all ears :D**  
><strong>Kj xx<strong>


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